


Dragon Hearts

by lordelannette



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Gryffindor Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts, Pureblood Hermione Granger, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordelannette/pseuds/lordelannette
Summary: She was Pureblood royalty born into a commanding family that was surrounded by Dark magic. He was a muggleborn that happened to be best friends with the Chosen One. But when they met, their worlds clashed and they found themselves playing a dangerous game of push and pull that revolved around one another and consumed them whole.





	1. All Stories Must Have a Beginning

Narcissa softly stared down upon the newborn baby in her hands, thick emotions getting caught in her throat as she swallowed them down. Her vision was blurry with the unshed tears but no mistake was she happy- so, so happy with her daughter secured in her arms- but she could feel the heaviness of the world surrounding them. There was no ignoring it.

Dread lingering around them like a dark shadow that treaded along the bed, simply waiting for the chance to devour them at the slightest slip. Oh yes, it was there, hovering and licking at her skin in anticipation. It was terrifying.

She had never envisioned it like this.

She had always wanted children. As a child she had fantasied about the day she would become a mother. The fantasy had been dreams that she had acted out as a young child with fake dollies that she would carry on her hip and cradle against her chest. She had longed for them for so long and now, she had them. Her perfect family.

She was complete, her sole goal in life was achieved, but everything was...wrong. The world wasn't right. It was too dark and damning for the pure, for the innocent. Children weren't supposed to be raised in such dangerous times, babies weren't supposed to be born in the middle of a war yet, here she was, cradling her newborn daughter tightly to her chest. This was real now. It was too real.

Tears threatened to spill as she took in her daughter's precious face, flush and pink just as an hour old baby's should. Her daughter didn't deserve to be brought into such a dreary world, not with the threat of defeat on one hand and dealing with the rule of a madman on the other. Even Narcissa had been raised in a better world; a demanding pureblood society was the worst she had to deal with, the loss of her sister and her cousin had been eventful but that had happened later in her life when she had understood the ways of the world. There had been no war when she was a child and yet she would describe her youth as a hardship due to the social pressures of the society she had been born into.

Being a member of the Black family, she had been given everything and anything she wanted...as long as she did as she was told. There would be no difference with her own daughter. Living up to Lucius' expectations would be demanding enough but her daughter would have to deal with an abiding war, with no power to defend herself. Narcissa was far from ignorant and she wouldn't deny the strength that both sides possessed and that there was no clear winner that would be conquering the other any time soon. This war was going to drag on for years. Decades, possibly, and it made her heart clench in agony. How long could hell last in the Wizarding World before it tore everyone apart? How long would it be until it went after her own children and ripped them out of her arms, out of her life forever?

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Her gaze hardened, darting towards the door before she tightened her arms around her newborn. She wouldn't let it happen. Her children would be fine if she kept them in the Manor. The world could have their war. The magic in the wards was too strong to be penetrated by their enemies and as long as her children remained there, all would be fine. She would be able to protect them even from him.

She quickly swept her piercing eyes around the room to make sure she was truly alone with her daughter before she nuzzled into her baby's cheek, letting her lips linger at the newborn's ear. "I'm sorry, so, so sorry, my love," she whispered. She brought her free hand up to swipe at the tears that were falling from her eyes. For bringing her's into such a dreadful world, it did make her feel sorry for her child, but never would she regret her children's birth.

"My sweet, sweet daughter," she cooed down at her baby, kissing the curled brown hair on top of the newborn's fragile head. "So perfect, so pure. Mama loves you."

Narcissa closed her eyes against her daughter's skin, feeling the overwhelming surge to keep the contact, knowing that their moments alone were limited and Lucius would be entering the room soon along with… She swallowed heavily at the thought and opened her eyes, scanning over her daughter for the umpteeth time. A mother was always the first one to memorize the faces of her children. Looking down at the newborn, Narcissa couldn't help but reminisce back to when her son, Tom, had been born, just three years prior. So alike and yet so different. Where Tom had been silent and observant, her daughter was soft coos and small smiles that would tug at the corner of her lips. A complete balance to one another.

Her family would be perfect; she could see their lives flashing before her eyes, every holiday, every milestone as her children continued to grow.

A warm smile stretched across her face. "You complete our family," she whispered. "We will be happy, I promise. Everything will be fine as long as we are together." She placed another kiss upon the newborn's head just as she heard a soft knocking at the door. Panic was quick to seize her heart but there was nothing she could do as the door was opened, taking less than a second before Lucius walked in, closely followed by their young son.

Her husband looked unsure as he gazed at her and the bundle in her arms but at her nod, beckoning them toward the bed, Lucius picked up Tom and strided forward. In Lucius' grasp, Tom clung to his father's shoulder, never taking his steel eyes off of her or his new sibling. Once Lucius made his way next to the bed, he gently sat both him and Tom on the edge, letting go of their son to let him get closer to her.

Lucius was quick to take their daughter into his own hands. If it were possible, the baby appeared even smaller than she already was- more fragile. Narcissa watched carefully.

When they had first married, Lucius had been adamant on a child to further on the family name. A son was what he always wanted, and it had been a relief when it was revealed their first born was a boy. They didn't have to conceive more because a son was all they - Lucius - had desired, but he hadn't shunned her longing for another. All worry of Lucius' reaction turning sour disappeared as he smiled softly down at their daughter. She was perfect in his eyes- worthy to carry on his name- otherwise he would've… She would've already known had he not been pleased with the newest addition to their family. At the moment he appeared to be the happiest wizard in the entire world, a rarity for her husband, and it made a warmth spread throughout her body.

Her gaze shifted to Tom who was intently watching the interaction between his father and the baby. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Tom's small frame, bringing him closer to the rest of them as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He blinked up at her but his gaze was quick to train back onto his sister.

"Mine?" Tom leaned forward to loom over the baby in his father's hands.

Lucius nodded his head, briefly switching his attention to their son. "Yes, son. This is your sister," he said with a proud grin. "You're a big brother now. You must protect her, do you understand?"

Narcissa watched Tom nod at his father, too seriously for a boy of his age. "I promise Father. I will protect her from them." She felt her face threaten to crumble at her son's words. She had no doubt he would be a protective brother but it was the fact that he knew the difference between the sides of war that he distinguished with one.

The war had already touched her son. Lucius had already exposed their loyalty to forces she never wanted Tom to see. It was devastating. She fought back the tears when Tom lowered his head to kiss at his sister's lips, a bond already forming between her two children as her daughter's eyes fluttered open. It was as if time stood still while the two siblings locked eyes, Tom's promise silent as he hovered over his sister and smiled down at her.

"I love you sister," he muttered close to the baby's cheek, his pale skin brushing against the newborn's flesh. "Forever and ever, Hermione."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Peace was something that was always taken for granted. You either have it in one moment and in the next, it's gone. It was like a cloud that would wash over them for just a few moments, in the midst of movement and chaos, and there would be a stillness inside. A moment, even in it's briefest stage, was bliss. The world would slow down, there would be no war looming beyond their warded grounds or Death Eaters running throughout their beloved home, everything would just be still. The moments were rare but they were everything she lived for now. It's what pushed her onward in these dreary days as long as her children were wrapped in her arms.

Like now, with Tom and Hermione nestled in her lap as her son marveled at his new baby sister. For the past hour they had been allowed to get lost in time, the world was shut off from their family, as they simply all laid in the bed together. But like all good things, it was quickly put to an end as a hasty knock rang throughout the room.

The door flew open and Narcissa beamed at who she saw. A woman with wild black curls bounded through with a toddler of her own hoisted on her hip. The woman smiled widely at the sight of them all on the bed, before she strided over, huffing away the stray lock that had fallen into her vision. The second Narcissa's sister joined them, the toddler rapidly managed to climb over them and sit himself next to Tom, curiously eyeing the baby in his lap.

"Cygnus," the woman hissed at the wild toddler. "Settle yourself."

But Narcissa patted her sister's worries away. "Nonsense, Bella. Let him see her." She smiled warmly at her nephew. He was practically her second son, Tom's twin as they liked to term since the two cousins were only a couple months apart and nearly always joined at the hip. The two of their children did everything together and she wouldn't want it any other way. "Besides, unless you plan on having anymore children-," Narcissa turned to grin teasingly at her sister, but was cut off by Bella's snort.

"Cissa, you and I both know that Cygnus is more than enough," Bella said with a quick look in her son's direction. "Besides, Rodolphus wanted a son and only one."

Narcissa forced her attention to the cluster of their children, staring unblinkingly as the two boys played with Hermione's small fingers. In all honesty, she had been surprised when Bella had a kid to begin with. Never in all of their years growing up together had her older sister ever expressed the want of children but she would never wouldn't go as far as describing Bella as the motherly type but she had grown...kinder since his arrival, more affectionate than she had been before. It was only when he was in the room, that her sister would transform before her very eyes. She liked to ignore those moments.

"And you?" Bella's question brought her out of her revier. "Is Hermione going to be the last Black grandchild or do you plan on having a horde like some-"

"No," Narcissa interrupted her sister with a humorous smile. "Hermione's my last. Having more wouldn't...it wouldn't do anything for our family. We're complete now, Bella. This is it."

Bella hummed. "Good," she stared down at the children. "You can't serve the Dark Lord while being pregnant."

And just like that, the bliss was gone. It was there one moment and gone the next.

"Bella…" she began but the words died in her throat as she became aware of the pair of eyes watching her. Both of the boys had turned towards her, as had Lucius and she tried her hardest to not bristle underneath their keen eyes; always looking, always expecting.

Her sister cleared her throat and gestured towards Hermione with a jerk of her chin. "Well, she looks just like Tom did. Could be twins if there was no age gap...and the eyes, of course are different. It's hilarious that neither of them inherited the blonde but I must admit I am quite fond of the brown. A nice mix between you and Lucius'," Bella softly twisted the fine hairs upon Hermione's head around her fingers. "Makes me think that the Black genes aren't strong, Cissa, since Cygnus only inherited his hair color from me. Perhaps we'll find out if Regulus ever has a child. He has to carry on the family name before that blood traitor taints our lineage anymore than our-"

"Who knows what the future holds," Narcissa quickly said. "Anything can happen at this rate."

"Of course, of course," Bella waved her off, her dark eyes skimming frantically over the three children in anticipation. "Cissa, the Dark Lord wants to meet her. He's here, in the sitting room with Severus. We mustn't keep him waiting."

Narcissa could feel the icy tendril seep down her spine at the mention of their Lord. She had been expecting it but nothing would ever prepare her for getting used to the man's presence, no matter how many times he would be in the same vicinity as her. She had known he would come and see the newest arrival, he had done the same when Cygnus and Tom had been born. It wasn't as if they - she - could say no. He would blast the door down if she ever had the gall to refuse him and what was worse was that her sister and husband would probably allow their beloved Lord to kill her on the spot. The two of them were in the top of Voldemort's ranks and they didn't get there by standing against him. It was unsettling to think of such things but that was the cruel reality of the world she was living in, the world she had brought her children into.

She forced her turn of thoughts away and grinned uneasily towards her sister, shuddering away the stiffness that found its way around her shoulders. "Bring him in," she gave a slow nod. Bella's attention darted towards Lucius and wordlessly exchanged a conversation before the blonde patriarch turned and walked through the door.

With Lucius gone, she turned her worrisome eyes down onto her slumbering daughter, softly positioned in her brother's arms. Tom was right by her side with Cygnus in front of him and the three of them appeared to not have a single care in the world. They were simply basking in Hermione's arrival and it was almost enough to melt even her own worries away. But, unlike the children, she knew what was out there and knew what powers threatened their family. There would be no carefree spirits coming from her. She had to stay strong and alert for her them. It was all that mattered to her.

"Everything will be so different now," Bella's voice lulled out. "A little girl like her growing up in our family, I mean. She'll be so different from the boys."

Narcissa nodded her head. "It won't be that bad," she admitted. "There were three of us girls growing up in one house and we turned out fine. Surely one daughter won't be too troublesome."

She could pinpoint the exact moment that her sister turned sour but Bella did nothing but pinch her lips in agitation. The older witch knew better than to hinder her mood on the day of her daughter's birth. She hadn't meant to cause her sister any wrong but there were times that she would simply forget that there were certain aspects of their lives that they were meant to forget and ignore, as if certain people had never existed. It was hard...but she didn't have a choice in the matter. She didn't have the chance to dwell on that either as she heard several footsteps approach the door.

Lucius entered first, with two other men, both clad in black, that everyone knew and recognized instantly. One was practically crackling in dark energy and the other wasn't too far behind, he was just better at controlling his magic instead of letting it tower over every individual in the room like the dominance that it was. Her arms ached to bring her children closer to her but the movement would instantly set the Dark Lord on edge, along with everyone in the room. She was supposed to be loyal to him, willing to present her children to the man in the blink of an eye, not shield them away.

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of the blanket that had been wrapped around Hermione as Lucius swept their daughter out of Tom's hands, her eyes lingering on the newborn as her husband began to hand the bundle to Voldemort.

"My Lord," Lucius bent his head, "we would like for you to meet our daughter, Hermione."

Narcissa bit into her lip as Voldemort's pale hands wrapped around Hermione, bringing the baby close to his chest. His dark eyes were skimming over her daughter's features and Narcissa felt her stomach churn in repulsion, wanting nothing more than to rip her daughter away from the twisted man's grasp. The things that man had done...the lives he had ruined, it was horrifying yet the same man's hands were wrapped around her daughter.

"Congratulations," Voldemort's strong voice rang out. He leaned his head down and pushed his lips down onto Hermione's forehead, eyes closing at the contact. "She's perfect." Narcissa's piercing stare was trained directly on the lips against her daughter, the lips that were lingering for far too long for her comfort. She had to do something. She had to-

"Severus," her attention locked onto the other man in the room, a beloved friend she had the pleasure of saying for the past several years. He had been watching the interaction between Hermione and Voldemort with an emotionless face but she was used to that expression, knowing that he never let his true feelings show through. It's what she admired so much about him; his ability to stay strong and forthcoming yet understanding and at times, gentle, when it came to the children.

At his name being called, he turned to look at her expectantly. "We wanted to ask you if we could have the of making you Hermione's Godfather." She nearly flinched when she saw Voldemort's eyes snap open and stare down at her daughter. Through the corner of his dark gaze, the Dark Lord glanced at one of his most prized Death Eaters. Narcissa could only hold her breath as she kept her focus on Severus, waiting for him to react. Anything. Even the slightest, most briefest curve of his mouth was all she needed. To her, it felt like ages until Severus' dark brows raised slightly. He was surprised though, that much she could tell and she knew that Severus had thought that the role would have been given to Voldemort just as it had been with Tom and Cygnus. There had been no hesitation on Lucius' part when she had gotten pregnant with Tom but this time Narcissa had made sure her husband knew that it would be different this time. Voldemort wouldn't be the Godfather to both of her children. She simply wouldn't stand for it and didn't care how their Lord would react. Severus deserved to be her daughter's Godfather and she wanted no one else to fulfil the position but him.

She smiled up at him when she recognized his gratitude almost having stunned him into silence. "The honor is all mine," he sternly nodded his head, a bright gleam present in his black eyes that she had never seen before. When his gaze turned back towards Hermione, he didn't bother to hide the softness in his eyes as they took in the newborn. The image warmed her to the core.

"Congratulations, Severus." Voldemort's cold voice shattered the moment, slicing and tearing into the air like a vice. "You're a fortunate man," he remarked before turning his torso to gently hand Hermione to the Death Eater. It was an instant relief when Narcissa watched Hermione nestle into her Godfather's arms. There was an awestruck look on her friend's face as he ghosted his fingers across Hermione's features and to her surprise, her daughter had silently woken up. She straightened up ready to take Hermione from Severus before she started to fuss but she was quickly stilled as she watched a smile slowly creep onto Severus' face. Hermione had managed to wrap her small hand around Severus' index finger and was gazing up at him, not a single cry leaving her mouth. The encounter between the two was beautiful as she had never seen Severus so at ease as he was at that very moment. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and threatened to spill over.

However, instead of everyone's attention on Severus and Hermione, Lucius and Bella were eagerly watching Voldemort, and to her disdain, so were the two boys. Tom and Cygnus had always had an intense admiration of Lord Voldemort and really, it had been unavoidable. Lucius and Bella were nearly always with the man and Rodolphus was never that far behind which left Cygnus in extremely close proximity to the madman and wherever Cygnus was, Tom wouldn't be too far away. And what was worse, was that the Dark Lord always wanted his Godsons near. Even now, Voldemort was grinning at the two of them like they were his own, and in a way, the boys were. Voldemort controlled a vast majority of what the two of them came into contact with, in both the forms of people and...the activities of the Death Eaters. Lucius always assured her that neither of the boys ever witnessed anything too graphic, but it was rare for Narcissa to ever believe a word that came from her husband. He was blinded by the madman they followed and the twisted words that he spewed. All of them were.

Voldemort reached down and grasped both Tom and Cygnus by the shoulder. "It'll be quite the journey training the three of them," he said. From her place in the bed, Narcissa's heart halted in her chest, palms starting to sweat. "But I wouldn't want it any other way. These three will lead the newest generation and to do so, they have to be trained. These next years to come will be the most important for our cause - to prepare a better world for these children, the next wizards and witches to make an importance. They'll be powerful and ruthless and no one will be able to harm them." Her eyes widened and darted to Tom and Cygnus, balking as they grinned up at their Godfather collectively. They were simply too young and naive to the nightmare Voldemort was and she had no power to show them the truth nor was she sure that she wanted to. The boys loved him, as much as it pained her to admit, and if they were happy in his presence, what was she to do? Especially with her husband and sister beaming in pride at them. This is what they had wanted all along, more leverage into the Dark Lord's favor and had the audacity to go as far as presenting their own children to him.

The world was a dark, damning place that ripped people's sanity apart and replaced it with festering copies of what they used to be.

"These children," the Dark Lord continued, "are the ones that will lead us into victory. The three of them will stand by my side when we rule them all."

She watched as Lucius nodded his head in anticipation, a determined glint in his silver eyes but she felt no such thing. She felt nothing but remorse, thinking that her children were being robbed of their lives before it had even began. And in that briefest span of seconds, Narcissa knew. She knew that just like everything else that came into Voldemort's path, the life as she knew it was tethering on fine strings until the torment of his war tore them apart.

Merlin would be the only one to save them now.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

October 30, 1981

Time was of the essence when a war was in place. Months could determine which side was increasing in numbers as supporters flocked in from all across the wizarding world; weeks could determine which side was losing; days could tell you which friends and family members had been taken away; and hours - the worst form of time - could mean a person being there one moment and gone the next.

That's what time could do. He was an undeniable, powerful bastard that even the Dark Lord couldn't overtake. For now at least…

It felt that this new life had dragged on for ages now, yet, in reality, only a mere year had dragged by. It had been hard and tough but it didn't take from success as their message continued to be heard by the thousands. The sheer force of the Dark Lord's followers was something the Wizarding World had never seen before. They were feared, respected, and even admired by the magical society in ways that were unbelievable by some, mainly those that were solely loyal to the Light. But as they continued to rise in their power, so did the number of people who opposed of their ideals.

Battles were no stranger to the Wizarding World anymore. Deaths had become more common than births just as it was to see another wizard strike a curse at another instead of shake their hand. The fighting between the dark and light had gotten so out of hand and so dominant that it had finally been acknowledged by the Ministry as a crisis that had taken over England. Many would argue that it was considered a global event but none of the other Ministries had taken action as of yet. However, there was no denying that the war was beginning to take a toll on population numbers.

The Death Eaters killed anyone that opposed them, it was common knowledge at this point. It was a stressful time that kept building up on everyone; keeping those on edge and hesitant of talking to those that they may have known in a time not that long ago. It was hard to walk out of your front door and not know if you would be home for dinner.

For Lucius, it was the opposite. Being Voldemort's right hand and being one of the top ranked Death Eaters did have it's benefits, after all. Many considered the circumstances unfair, which he did have to consider had a plentiful deal of truth, but he didn't give a damn on how others felt. He had a job to do, a job that the Dark Lord had given him specifically.

Don't get caught.

It was a simple task, more simpler than any of the others had been given but at the same time, it was the hardest. At times it could be so damn hard to keep silent on his views when in the public eye because he had a high influence on the Ministry of Magic, not to mention the overwhelming wealth of his vaults, that needed to be maintained in order to serve its purpose to the Dark Lord. It certainly wouldn't bode well for him to start spewing his blood purity supremacy when the Ministry made it clear they were so accepting of those of lesser status'. He had to stay in charge, the people needed to know he was on a mutual standpoint or else they would turn on him faster than a tick infestation in Azkaban.

On most days he was ordered to stay tucked away in the Manor as Death Eaters popped in and out after their missions to give him their reports on raids and minor battles that took place. Voldemort didn't waste his time with useless tasks such as that. That wasn't to say, however, that he didn't participate in the tortures and killings of anyone that threatened their cause because he most certainly did and by the tenfold. He had long lost count of the number of individuals that had died by his wand alone; how many magical and muggle people had faced his curses before he cut their lives short. He would listen with deaf ears when those same people would beg for their life - with their hands stretched out towards him, faces full of misery and horror, bleeding and broken right before his very eyes. They would look at him with such pleading, crawling on their knees to ask him for mercy but they just didn't understand. They didn't get it.

Their lives were worthless to him. They meant less to him than the mud that would coat his dragon hide boots during those wet raids. They were nothing, less than that if there another word. And the more he did it, the more he thrived in knowing that he was doing the Wizarding World a favor - ridding their precious world of the scum that infested their society, the filth that littered Hogwart's halls. Each one he and the others ended, was another mudblood less than before.

He did it for his family; his wife and his most prized possessions. His children. The very beings that he had brought into this world. Tom and Hermione were the very reason he woke up in the mornings and continued to do what he did and so meticulously close to Voldemort's orders of not getting caught. How was he supposed to protect his family if he were locked away in a piss hole? The answer was simple - he wouldn't. So, every time he was called for a raid, his signature hair was hidden from sight and his face was blocked by his metal mask. He wouldn't be fickle enough to get caught but if the months kept passing as they did know, he wouldn't have to hide for much longer. Soon, he would be able to show his face proudly and not hesitate to partake in a public execution.

He could hardly wait.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It had started out as a mere whisper; a prophecy that had somehow spread quickly across the Wizarding World and took society by storm. Followers of the Light saw hope for the first time in a very long time but the rest of them...they saw the threat for what it was. An end to everything they had worked so hard for and the ideals they praised so strongly.

And if there was anything the Dark Lord hated most, it was a threat against his power. Therefore, when wind caught up to Voldemort, hell was unleashed.

When Lucius himself heard of the prophecy, he had nearly laughed at its absurdity. A mere baby was what would bring their powerful Lord crumbling apart? Not a chance, he had thought at the time but when Voldemort had made it their topmost priority, none of the Death Eaters took the matter light anymore. They all feared the possibility of being Lordless, knowing that if he fell then it wouldn't be long until they were hauled away like animals and locked into chains and shoved into Azkaban. That is, if they were lucky.

...born as the seventh month dies…

That was the key that Voldemort latched onto. With the Ministry heavily corrupted, it had been almost too easy to get ahold of the magical birth records. It had first come down to a handful of children but Voldemort focused his prime attention on two - a halfblood named Harry Potter and a pureblood by the name of Neville Longbottom. Both were the offspring of known Order members, which had been another clue from the prophecy.

...born to those who have thrice defied him…

With Voldemort's attention and wrath focused on such small families, Lucius knew the two infants didn't stand a chance. He wouldn't put it past his beloved Lord to take both of them out in the process, just to ensure the possibility of it being either one of them that would lead to his demise. Their Lord wasn't a stupid man, after all.

It had been nearly dead into the night when Lucius felt his forearm burn in haste. The Dark Lord had gathered up his most loyal Death Eaters, which wasn't a rarity when the matter at hand was of importance. Joining him at the large table was Severus, Bella, Nott, Goyle, Crabbe, the Lestrange brothers, and Karkaroff, while Voldemort sat proudly at the head - a pleased grin on his face that had the rest of them beaming in anticipation.

They had sat there for what felt like hours as the Dark Lord discussed his plan that would take effect immediately the following night. He had grown tired of waiting and wanted to end the preposterous hope that had the Light radiating, glowing in the possibility of his end. He wanted to ruin them once and for all and they all knew that this was the way to do it. This would be what destroyed them.

"My Lord-" Bella leaned forward in her chair, bowing her head as Voldemort's stare snapped to her. "- How will you find them? We have been searching for the Potter's for weeks and yet haven't came across anything. The Fidelius Charm is nearly impossible to trace and there's no doubt that Dumbledore would be the Secret Keeper himself."

All eyes turned back towards Voldemort as he nodded his head, an eery glint that they all recognized gleaming in his dark eyes. He tilted his head back as he snapped his fingers, the sound echoing across the room before a loud pop of apparition followed.

Lucius eyed the house elf with brief, mild disgust before taking immediate interest in the figure slouched over with a dark cloth placed over his head and visible cuts bleeding through his clothing. His hands were magically bound behind his back but even through the invisible bindings, a deep red crimson was dripping from his wounds. It was obvious the man had been tortured for some time and it could only mean that it was someone that Voldemort found interesting. Days of torture meant their Lord wanted to break them, slowly and methodically until they were drowning in their own blood and sweat.

With a flourish, Voldemort flicked his wand toward the man and together his followers sat up straight, eyes wide as he revealed the identity of the prisoner.

Peter Pettigrew was hardly recognizable but they all knew who he was, a member of Dumbledore's supporters, one of the golden Order members. When the Dark Lord stood and began to circle around the broken man, they too stood and watched as Voldemort's wand trained on the man on the floor.

"My friends," the word sounded twisted on his tongue, "I bring before you all the very man who is the Secret Keeper of the Potters. You may all find this amusing, but this man has revealed their location to me without a single curse from my wand. He offered to me what he knew we wanted, begging for his life to be spared. As he said, he would like to join us."

Bella, once again, stepped forward, head bowed low as she addressed Voldemort. "But my Lord, what of Sirius? He was the one we believed to be the Secret Keeper, he's Potter's best friend. Surely, this is a rouse - a trap they've set up for us to take."

"I've already taken that into consideration," Voldemort responded, his eyes set and determined on Pettigrew. "But this coward before us is telling the truth. I've had him reporting to us for weeks now and every piece of information he's given has been beneficial in our raids. The location of the Potters was the very first thing he gave us; betraying his friends in the blink of an eye," their Lord taunted the man as he cowered before them.

"Tomorrow night, I will kill the Potter boy," Voldemort turned away from Pettigrew and looked at each of them. "Once he's dead, the remaining Order will go next. They're already falling apart believing they have a spy in their ranks. They're turning on each other just as fast as we are gaining new supporters," he grinned. "But...we will save Dumbledore for last. I want to see him defeated before I kill him, the look of anguish on his face frozen for his afterlife. I want him to know that I've finally won."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

One by one the Death Eaters apparated from the Manor until all that was left was Bella, Severus, and him. The Dark Lord was before them, and nodded his head, a sickening smile on his face. "Tomorrow will be the day we have all waited for. Our plans for the Wizarding World will be put into full force until it is cleansed of the filth that has infested our sacred society."

Lucius turned his head when he caught sight of Pettigrew in the corner, the rest of the individuals doing the same. It was Voldemort who approached the man, a look mixed with disgust and eagerness as he looked down. "We will need to deal with Mr. Pettigrew. He needs to be taught loyalty if he wants to be considered for our ranks."

"What would you like for us to do, my Lord?" Lucius said, meeting Voldemort's gaze with ease. It was silent as the Dark Lord contemplated what to do, his dark eyes set on Pettigrew the way a predator watches its prey until he nodded his head, slowly but surely.

Voldemort turned towards him and Bella, and grinned. "Tomorrow morning I want Tom and Cygnus to meet with me in the drawing room. They're still young but they need to witness what we do to those who are not loyal. They need to see firsthand what it takes to show who has the power and who was destined to be ruled."

He peered back down towards Pettigrew who was shaking in fear on the ground, trembling from head to toe. "I'm confident that you will admire my godsons. They both have quite the potential; young and determined, knowing what they want in life while having everything and everyone they will possibly ever need. Children are beautiful things, aren't they?" He sneered, nastily that made Pettigrew shrink even more if it were possible.

"Of course, I only mean those that are born of the right lineage, and to those on the right side. The offsprings of those such as the Potters for example," he tsked, "deserve to be put out of their misery, wouldn't you agree?"

Pettigrew stayed motionless, his eyes darting every which way except on Lord Voldemort.

"Well," Voldemort smiled, cruel and heartless, "considering you betrayed them, I believe you do."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Night of October 31, 1980

It was dark both inside and outside of the Granger Manor, the only source of fluorescence was the lightning that would brighten up the sky every few seconds. All day it had been raining. Not a light sprinkle, or clouds of drizzle, no. It was as if the floodgates of the skies above had been opened and it's main goal was to drown every living creature in the world. To her, however, it felt as if the sky was in mourning. As if it too sensed the malevolent change that was taking place.

Midnight had come and gone hours before yet here they were, still awake and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. It had been hours now, as she sat in her chair and watched as Lucius paced back and forth, over and over, in front of the fireplace as his mind raced. He had been unable to sit still once the deadline had passed and now it was an excruciating game of waiting.

Both of their children were fast asleep upstairs and had been for quite some time. Tom had gone to bed earlier than usual, being both physically and mentally exhausted from his altercation with his Godfather and Pettigrew. He had transformed before her very eyes when she first spotted him come out of the drawing room; stoic and silent, almost as if he had aged an entire decade in the span of those short hours. Cygnus, on the other hand, had been unable to stay quiet as he jumped up and down in excitement, too caught up in the adrenalin that was coursing through his small veins. Her nephew had always been the untamable one, much like her sister. She hadn't been able to say anything, only watching as Lucius presented Tom with a Granger signet. Tears had pricked her eyes when Tom smoothed the band onto his finger with a proud grin, wholly matching that of his father.

Her son had grown up. Barely a toddler, yet he had done those terrible things… things she should have been able to protect him from.

"The Dark Lord should be here by now," Lucius snapped, fierce silver eyes locking on her. "If there was trouble he would have summoned us. How hard would it be to dispose of a child the same age as Hermione?"

Narcissa tried her hardest to not balk underneath his scrutiny. The thought of such a cruelty performed on an innocent child, let alone the same age as her very own, was doing very damning things to her morality.

"Maybe he changed his plan," she began softly. "Maybe the prophecy wasn't valid and there was no threat to his cause -"

"Our cause," he corrected her with a sneer, eyes flashing in warning. "Or maybe the Dark Lord already succeeded and his power was drained. It would explain why his apparition is delayed or why he hasn't given us any signal through our marks," he looked down to his exposed forearm. He had unbuttoned his sleeves long ago, revealing the dark contrast against his pale skin. It made her want to vomit at the sight of it.

She inhaled shakily as she found her next words, knowing that her husband wouldn't find it beneficial in the slightest. "Love …" she gazed at him apprehensively, "What if… What if the Dark Lord fails?"

Her husband spun around rapidly, his pale blonde hair billowing behind him. "Don't you dare say such -"

She stood up from her chair. "Stop!" she yelled. "Don't pretend that the option of failure wasn't a possibility that could unfold."

"The Dark Lord can kill a child," he venomously spat in her direction. "The Dark Lord can kill it's blood traitor father and it's mudblood mother with ease."

"Then why isn't he here!" she sobbed. "What could have possibly drained him of his power like you said? A child, Lucius?! If he's failed-"

"He hasn't failed!"

Tears were beginning to fall from her eyes. "What will happen to us?" she begged him to answer. "Will we be taken to Azkaban? What about our children, will they be taken from us? Given to another wizarding family or thrown into the muggle world like garbage!? Who will take care of them!? They're going to take Hermione and Tom away from us, Lucius!"

Her husband gripped her wrists and she knew he could feel her shaking. He was furious and she wanted nothing more than to be upstairs with her children, protecting them as much as she could. Something was wrong, she knew it.

"No one is going to take our children from us. No one," he barked. He released her just as fast as he had grabbed her, and took large breaths to force himself to calm down. He had turned away from her and marched up to the fireplace, staring into its wild flames.

"If he was to fail, the authorities would have no reason to come after us," he started, slowly. "I have never been traced to him. Even if suspicions were to arise, I could bribe the Ministry. Or even claim that we were under the Imperius if need be."

She closed her eyes in relief. Her husband had never been a stupid man, then again he had made the decision to follow after the madman like a depraved animal, and not the powerful, pureblood wizard that he was. Then again, it was because of that that he had offered his services to Voldemort in the first place.

But just as she began to ease in his reassurance, another face came into mind. She shook her head knowing that the answer to her second worry wouldn't be a good one. "My sister, Lucius. What will happen to her?"

Lucius eyed her briefly. "They've been spotted numerous times. Her and Rodolphus, along with Rabastan. Neither of the three are shy to vocalize their allegiance."

There was no doubt in her mind that if Voldemort were to fail, her sister would be hauled away without the possibility of a trial. She cursed her sister's insolence.

"We will keep Cygnus," she remarked. There was no question in her voice. It wasn't a request. "If it were to come to that."

Her husband nodded his head. He knew better than to think otherwise.

She wanted to smile at him, to show her appreciation of his words but she couldn't find the will to. She held so much anger towards him these days, for bringing them into this world. She had thought she got out of the Dark's control when she escaped her parent's house, little knowing that it would follow after her like the plague that it was. It wanted to consume her whole, or at least that's what it felt like.

She sank back into the chair as Lucius walked over towards the cabinet that held his sacred firewhiskey. She let her thoughts escape her as she listened to the clinking of the tumbler glass connect with the bottle of whiskey. Her husband rarely drank apart from social gatherings with acquaintances but it wasn't odd to see him grab a glass when he was alone either. His nerves must finally getting to him, she mused.

She turned to peer out the large windows just as another lightning strike lit up the room. It appeared that the storm was getting even stronger as the wind and rain thrashed against the windows. She wondered if either of her children would awaken because of it, hoping that nothing would disrupt their sleep. Tom was always terribly cranky when he was rudely awaken; never the morning person, that one was. A fond smile graced her lips as a particular memory evaded her mind but it was short lived as she heard her husband, any pleasant thought washing away just like the rain on their windows.

Lucius had inhaled sharply, the crystallized glass in his hand slipping as he moved to clutch at his left forearm. His eyes went wide and she paled as his frantic gaze found hers.

"He failed."

It came out as a whisper but Narcissa heard him as if he had yelled.

Outside, it continued to pour.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Everything blurred before her eyes, seemingly stuck in a time of fast forward yet dreadfully slow as individuals and objects morphed into each other. This couldn't be real, she had to be caught in some cruel nightmare, standing motionless as Lucius seemed to disappear from her sight more times than not. He was yelling into the fireplace, so loudly that the words were pounding against her skull yet she couldn't comprehend what she was hearing. Her heart was racing so fast that she feared it would burst in her chest. She could feel her sanity falling apart, piece by piece, as her worries started to jump to the surface.

She raised a hand to place it on her chest, eyes going wide when Lucius turned on her. She could see the vein in his neck beating as rapidly as her heart and took a step back, inching to the double doors as the seconds ticked by. She didn't want to be there when all hell broke loose. She had seen firsthand the damage Lucius could do when he was angry and at that moment, she knew she had never seen him as furious as he was now.

Narcissa silently kept inching backwards, slowly - so slowly - as the magic surrounding her husband flared wildly. She could hear its dangerous hiss as it drank in her worries; her fear. Her steps began to get quicker. She needed to be ready to leave, ready to flee when Lucius would finally lose it.

Narcissa watched every move her husband took with hawk-like eyes and when he advanced, her hands were already placed against the thick wood of the doors ready to run as fast as she could away from him and to her children. However, just as his eyes narrowed at her actions, several distinct pops shot through the air. Her eyes closed in relief as she registered the change in the wards. The other Death Eaters had finally joined them. They would keep her husband occupied...for now, at least. It was in the blink of an eye that Lucius turned away from her and towards the Death Eaters that had started to gather around, each of them sharing a hard, frantic and angry gaze.

Her hand tightened around the handle. She didn't belong here...she didn't want to be here. She wanted-

Bellatrix rushed up, startling her as she pulled at her arm. Her sister's black eyes shone dangerously in the light.

"Cissa-" Bella's voice broke her thoughts like a whip against flesh. "Cissa, listen to me. Go get Cygnus. He knows what to do, he's waiting for you. The house elves are transferring our heirlooms into the vaults before the Ministry has the chance to raid the Manor. I need to be with the others, we...we need to find out what happened."

She blinked at her older sister. There was nothing more they could do, didn't she realize that? The mission was over, they were over. The Dark Lord had lost. What more could they possibly have to do? They needed to protect themselves now, her sister included.

But when Bella turned away from her, it appeared that her sister didn't have the same intuition. Her hand shot out and clamped around her sister's wrist before she could understand what it was she was doing. It was an act of desperation, she knew, but when Bella's impatient eyes flickered towards her, she faltered. What was she to say? There wasn't a thing she could say that would change her sister's mind. She just had to accept it.

As another second ticked by, she released her sister with a shaky breath. It was all she could do before Bella strided towards the Death Eaters yelling amongst one another.

Narcissa spotted the lost cause for what it was and she disapparated without a moment of hesitation.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The Lestrange Manor never failed to unsettle her. It was buried deep in the forest, away from life itself, it seemed, and the sun never made its presence known as it was hidden behind the hundreds of thousands of leaves that blocked its rays. If one wasn't looking carefully, they would miss it as the giant manor had a sinister way of disappearing into the shadows. It was quiet there too, with no one to hear the screams for miles on end. Although, Narcissa had always figured that that's how the Lestrange's liked it, dating even centuries back. It was one of the main things that had drawn her sister in; it's dark claws sinking deep in Bella and not once releasing its grip.

However, when she arrived in the foyer, the house was very much alive. Every light in the house was on and there were several house elves scurrying past her with multiple objects balanced in their hands. Some of the creatures had objects levitating in the air due to the dark magic that had long possessed the items. She bypassed them almost immediately and took to the stairs, trampling up them as fast as her heels could take her.

When she made it to Cygnus' bedroom chamber, she found two more house elves standing guard near his door. Their loyalty had never ceased to amaze her but given the time, she glided through without a look in their direction. Narcissa found her nephew darting across his room as he collected numerous objects, however, when he heard her enter, he rushed up to her and wrapped his small arms around her. She accepted his embrace instantly, kissing the top of his head as she felt the trembles wrack his body. He was terrified and he had every reason to be.

"Mother said I'm going to stay with you now," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Father wouldn't tell me what happened, they left and didn't-"

She hushed him as he began to get worked up. "You will be alright," she promised him. "As long as you stay safe, that's what matters."

He looked up at her with wide, dark blue eyes. "But Mother and Father?" he asked, the worry heavy in his gaze. It was enough to kill the words of comfort that were starting to escape her throat. She wasn't going to lie to him. She wouldn't dare.

"I don't know," she admitted.

A noise of breaking glass from the hall made the both of them jump. And it was then that she realized she was taking too long. The Aurors could be there at any moment and she and Cygnus would be stuck in the crossfire as the house elves obeyed their orders to protect the house. She needed to get the both of them out and as fast as possible.

She released her nephew and nodded towards his suitcases filled with his belongings. "We need to go," she urged him. "Is this everything?" One look around his chambers said that it was. The double doors that led to his closet was wide open and all of the shelves and racks on the inside had been swiped clean. The display cases where his jewelry and cuffs had once been were now empty, the drawers of his dressers were all pulled out and she could see the bottom of each of them. Everything he owned was gone, packed away and likely to never enter his room again. She had to blink away the tears that threatened to spill.

Wordlessly, she reached down with one hand and grabbed his suitcase while the other gripped onto his hand. No matter what, he would be safe. That, she promised.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The wards welcomed the two of them easily, allowing them to slip in as if they were a simple breeze in the night and it took only a mere second until their feet were firmly planted on the marbled ground of the second floor. It was the wing that contained Tom and Hermione's bedrooms, and now, Cygnus'. In the beginning, Lucius had insisted that the two of their children be given separate wings of the house, but she had wanted them to stay close. He had agreed in the long run but only until they reached an appropriate age. For now, it would be perfect as they grew up together.

She was back into motion as she stepped forward, Cygnus' hand still clutched in her own. "Dobby!" she whispered, determined not to wake her slumbering children. The house elf that Tom and Hermione had direct ownership of, appeared out of thin air before her and she was quick to haphazardly hand the creature Cygnus' trunk for him to properly put into a bedroom of his own. She didn't linger long, however, as she pulled Cygnus along towards Tom's room. Narcissa wanted to let the children sleep until morning; neither of the boys didn't need to know what was happening. They didn't need to worry. The problems should be left to the Death Eaters and the other adults involved, not children.

But as soon as she opened Tom's door, she stopped in her tracks at the sight before her. Tom was awake, wide awake, and nestled in his lap was his slumbering sister. Hermione was cradled tightly against his chest with a blanket draped across both of their figures.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Narcissa led herself and Cygnus into the room. "Tom...why aren't you in bed?"

Her son didn't look back, just kept his unblinking gaze fixed on something outside the large paned window that he was sitting in front of. "I couldn't sleep," he answered, simply and emotionless. "Something's happened, I know it. I can feel it."

She swallowed thickly, letting go of Cygnus as she approached her son. "Why did you get your sister out of her room? She needs to sleep-"

"But she is asleep," Tom's gaze snapped to her, leaving just as fast to look down at Hermione. Narcissa watched as his brows furrowed slightly before tightening his grip, bringing her even closer. He didn't take his molten gaze off of Hermione but he turned his head slightly to address her. "I felt the wards change. They've been changing for the past hour," he muttered enough for her to hear. "I ordered Dobby to bring her to me. I can't protect her if she's in another room."

She nodded her head in understanding, making her way to stand in front of him. Cygnus had moved to stand beside the chair, next to his cousins and the two boys looked to her, waiting. They always had been too smart for their own good.

Her mouth felt dry, the words in her mouth too heavy in more ways than one. "We'll talk about it in the morning," she offered, watching as Tom and Cygnus darted a look in each other's direction. "Right now, I just want us to all be together, okay? We're going to lay down in here and wait until the morning. Am I clear? We will all be fine as long as we're together."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Chaos had erupted amongst the Death Eaters. Reasoning had gotten old for the past two hours and all it left was them biting each other's heads off as each fought to have their voices heard. They wanted action, wanted revenge for their fallen Lord and some wanted to cause as much damage as possible to their enemies. He had tried to get the majority of them under control, but it was a useless action. Too many of them were furious and scared and too many of them didn't know what to do with themselves.

They were lost without order.

It was Bella that kept igniting the fire within the group. After every few minutes, Lucius could see her fingers twitch around her wand in anticipation. He could see the bloodlust in her unhinged eyes, could see the way her eyes darted towards the doors and windows as if plotting her escape. She knew no one would stop her, yet she stayed, trying with little success to enrage the remaining Death Eater into action. She knew better than to try him.

Almost immediately after the signal had been sent, many of the Death Eaters in the top ranks apparated directly into the Manor. However, with slight unease, Lucius noted that every was accounted for except Severus. In times like this and every other meeting with the Dark Lord, he always stood next to the man. So it was very natural to spot his absence, not that Lucius found any comfort to him. But there were more important matters at hand that needed his attention, matters that were quickly escalating beyond proportions.

"I refuse to stand in this house while our Lord is alone, defeated and needing our assistance," Bellatrix stalked beyond the perimeters of the circle the Death Eaters had created. Her wild hair seemed to crackle as her magic flared dangerously, curls spilling into her face with every word she spoke. "We must stick to the plan," she insisted, with wide, obsessive eyes. "The Potter house will be swarmed with the remaining Order. That leaves our other targets open and unguarded. They'll think we're finished, abandoning our cause at the fall of our Lord! We must avenge him," her hiss filled the room with cause, strong and commanding that several of the Death Eaters were nodding their heads feverently in agreement.

Rodolphus moved to stand beside his wife, the same dark gleam in his eyes as Rabastan joined him. "The Longbottoms were our second option," he voiced. "They won't see us coming if we act now."

Apart from Barty Crouch Jr. eagerly joining their team, no one moved. Lucius could feel Bella's burning glare singeing into his face but he pointedly avoided her gaze. There too many risks in their hasty actions, too many possibilities of failure that he didn't hesitate to decline the offer. He had a family to protect, a life to live and he couldn't do that rotting away in Azkaban.

He heard Bella scoff in disbelief when several of the others made no move to join.

Several long, deathly silent seconds passed until Bella and the other three men disapparated with a sickening crack.

It left the others sulking in their own despair and anger.

"We all know the Dark Lord has fallen," Lucius treaded carefully as he addressed the remaining men. "We all felt the connection in our marks sever. I'm not going to pretend that any plan of action is the right one as of now, but I believe we should all return to our homes and wait. We cannot all be hauled into Azkaban. Who would remain and serve the Dark Lord if he were to return?"

His words seemed to be the type of reassurance that many of them needed as they nodded their heads in acceptance, disappearing one by one until they were all gone and leaving him no choice but to embrace the quiet. He could feel his jaw ticking as he stared at the empty room, a word that he had said echoing through his skull.

If.

If he were to return...

It was a sentence he never thought he'd have to say and now, the brutality of it all, was that he pleaded himself to be wrong. The Dark Lord had to come back. The Wizarding World strayed further from the right path by the minute. The Dark Lord had been focused on fixing it all. They had finally been getting close.

The Dark Lord had been there one moment and gone the next.


	2. Heavy, Heavy, Heavy

1991

"Hermione…"

Narcissa reached down and gently shook her slumbering daughter, expecting a reaction, but it was to no avail. Beneath the rich fabric of sheets, the small outline of Hermione's body remained unmoved. The older witch sighed heavily and reached out again, "Hermione, you need to wake up."

When Hermione continued to not move, Narcissa crossed her arms across her chest. "We are going to Diagon Alley to buy your supplies. In one hour we are leaving with or without you."

She spun around on her heels and marched towards the large windows that lined Hermione's wall and with one heavy yank, the thick drapes pooled open. The sunlight violently lit up the room, chasing the remnant shadows of night into non existence, but it had no impact on the sleeping eleven year old.

Hermione simply burrowed herself deeper into her mountain of pillows and with another sigh of impatience, Narcissa stormed out of Hermione's chamber without a glance back.

The very moment the door closed, however, Hermione popped her head up and grinned towards the direction her mother had stormed off to. In all honesty, there was no doubt in her mind that her mother had already known she was awake. Hermione had always been an early riser, always had and would probably always would. It was just how she was.

But, she had been restless throughout the night. For the past three weeks, in fact. Time had dwindled down and now, there were only two days until she was due to start Hogwarts. Two days. She was a bottle of bubbled up emotions that were fizzling beyond control- fear, anxiety, and excitement- and they wracked through her body without forgiveness.

She had waited her entire life for her trip to Diagon Alley, to finally get her own supplies, and her own robes, and her own wand. To finally become a real witch. It was time for her to live up to the expectations that were held so high for her.

Her time had come. Finally.

Hermione hadn't wasted time jumping into motion, and soon enough, she was making her way downstairs to the main living room, dressed in her immaculate attire- not a hair out of place nor knick in the material of her clothing. Perfection, and nothing less.

Her attention was immediately on the males in the room. Her father, Tom, and Cygnus were standing near the fireplace, the two younger males quiet as the patriarch of their family talked into the flames. She could tell they were listening to every word with how their bodies were slightly turned inward. Discretion was rare in their family; secrets practically unheard of, which she always figured made them that much closer. All they had was each other, apart from the small handful of individuals that were considered appropriate by her father's terms. And that number was quite low, all things considered.

As she ventured further into the room, the soft sounds of her small heels clicking against the marbled floor gathered their attention. Collectively, their heads both turned towards her.

"Well, it's about bloody time," Cygnus said with a grin, his voice careful not to get too loud. "Aunt Cissa thought we were going to have to leave you here with those blasted house elves."

Tom stepped forward, with his hands casually shoved into his pockets. He was gazing at her with the softest of smiles playing on his lips but his eyes were hard and filled with disgust at the thought. "As if Hermione would actually give up her Diagon Alley trip. And to spend it with those disgusting creatures nonetheless."

She stopped before them and it was less than a second that Tom's arm snaked its way across her shoulder, pulling her into his side with a tender hug that only that of a brother could give. Her own arms wrapped around his waist to return the embrace before falling back to her sides. "No," she sighed with an amused smile. "I most definitely would not give up my trip. My entire life has led up for this moment."

Cygnus scoffed. "No need to be dramatic, Hermione. Could your entire life ambition truly be dwindled down to school textbooks and a few Hogwarts robes? Seems a bit anticlimactic, don't you think?"

"Very," Tom drawled out. His gaze was back onto their father, watching every word that formed as it was spewed into the fire. She glanced at Cygnus but he too was focused on the conversation taking place. Both pairs of eyes were unblinking.

Absentmindedly, she wondered where her mother was. In times such as these, when the boys were too distracted, her mother usually kept her busy with small talk. Neither of them cared too much about her father's deals, but Tom and Cygnus soaked up every word like their lives depended on it. Then again, one day Tom was going to own every galleon that belonged in the Granger vaults, so perhaps, it was his business just as much as it was their father's. There was a part of her too that said she needed to take interest just as the older two did. Eventually it would be expected of her just as it was for them.

With little else to do, her eyes hesitantly followed suit and took in the scene. From the look on her father's face she could tell it was serious. His tone was stern and sharp and it instantly sent her spine straightening. He didn't sound particularly happy.

She didn't enjoy it when he was like that; when he was the complete opposite of how he talked to her and the rest of the family. But she understood the importance of it. In order to be respected, they had to fear you. Power and a reputation was what took you far in the wizarding world. Not soft words and warm smiles. The strong had to be separated from the weak; the superior from the inferior. It's what her father always said.

Her attention snapped back to her father when his voice raised to a lethal shout. She tried to ignore the harsh curse that escaped his mouth but it was incredibly hard. It wasn't proper to use profanity and she could only imagine the storm that would take place if she were to ever dare utter one. She shuddered at the thought but she didn't get to linger long as her father ended the call with a violent wave of his hand. The three of them were quick to stand up straighter when the older wizard turned around.

None of them dared to speak. They all played it safe and waited for their father to make the first move.

"Useless," he seethed. "All of them."

Hermione bit the insides of her cheeks at the tension in the air. Beside her, Cygnus kept his eyes glued onto their father, but then, Tom stepped forward. Both Hermione's and Cygnus' gazes flickered onto him.

"Those in favor were outnumbered?" Tom spoke. It was meant as a question but it didn't sound like it to her ears.

Lucius clutched at the walking stick gripped tightly in his hand. The snake's beady emerald eyes glinted. "Six to six. Those opposed said there was no viable evidence that Dumbledore is incapable of continuing as Headmaster. Therefore," his jaw clenched, "we must wait another year to vote again."

Cygnus groaned, visibly deflating as his hands fisted. Tom, however, stayed poised. The only thing that exposed how he truly felt was the abrupt, single twitch of his brow.

"Mark my words," their father shook his head, "one day that fool will make a mistake, and it will be something that he will not be able to get away with. The Board of Governors will have no choice but to get rid of him."

"And how long do you think that would take?" Tom pushed.

"It should have already happened," Cygnus mumbled under his breath.

Lucius nodded towards Cygnus in silent agreement before looking towards his son. "At the rate he is going, I would not give him more than five years. If all goes as planned, by this time next year, two more of the governors should be… reconsidering their sides."

Hermione's brow furrowed, tilting her head to the side. "Why would that be?" she asked.

Her father grinned down at her and leaned forward, placing a brief kiss on the top of her head. "I happen to be a very persuasive man."

Oh, she had no doubt about that. She had seen first hand how people would bend to her father's every word. Wealth and a pureblood lineage considered royalty was bound to give a person the advantage, the highest advantage achievable in the wizarding world. Her father had power because he was the power- they were the power.

She smirked but the moment was short lived when her mother's footsteps began to echo throughout the room. Hermione turned excitedly and rushed up towards the beautiful witch. Narcissa's black hair was elegantly styled into an updo and her garments were made to perfection; on her neck and ear lobes were jewels that were worth more that most wizards and witches houses. Her ruby lips were vivid against her pale skin but as Hermione got closer, her footsteps slowed to a halt. Where a smile usually was, the corners of her mother's mouth were turned down into a slight frown. Her mother's dark brown eyes were swimming with emotions but when they focused onto Hermione and the others, it was as if a flip were switched. But Hermione stayed rooted, trying desperately hard to think of a reason her mother may be upset. Perhaps she hadn't appreciated being ignored this morning.

Hermione dug her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her father sidestepped her with ease to approach his wife.

"There you are. Are we…," his voice died down as his mercurial eyes narrowed on her form. His head notched to the side. "...ready?"

He turned back towards the children and shared a look with his son. It was obvious he hadn't been the only one to pick up on her strange expression. Tom's eyes were sharp on his mother.

Narcissa nodded her head and smiled a thin-lipped smile. It was too strained. "Ready whenever you are darling."

She moved forward to stand with her children and gently ran her fingers through Hermione's curls as she briefly pressed down onto her young daughter's shoulders to maintain the proper position. Hermione took the corrections silently and craned her neck upwards, reaching up to cover her mother's hand with one of her own before smiling. Hermione couldn't pretend to understand what was wrong with her mother exactly, but it didn't bother her. Her parents were strong willed and there was rarely anyone that could truly ruffle them the wrong way. Usually, it was get them first before they got you.

With everyone in place, Lucius eyed his wife one last time before nodding and apparating his family away with the familiar draw behind their navels.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Diagon Alley was… chaotic to say the least.

She had never gotten to come during this time of the year before. Her father had always said she wouldn't enjoy it but now that she was here, lost in the moment like everyone else, she had to admit that it was one of the most wonderful sights she had ever seen. The place was alive. It was an explosion of color and people and the magic danced in the air with each breath she took.

With wide eyes, she watched as other wizards and witches passed by one another; some stopping to swap a handful of words to another with smiles on full display. Then there were some clusters of families that were trying and failing to manage their children as they attempted to coral them into shops, lists in their hands of all the school supplies needed for the new term. Nearby there was a small huddle of children, slightly older than her, and she had to watch from a distance as they ran around together, laughing and taking turns showing off their new purchases from the nearby joke shoppe. She had to suppress a giggle of her own when one of the boys started to turn a vibrant shade of blue after the candy in his mouth had burst.

Hermione turned towards Tom and Cygnus to share the humor, but neither of them had paid the crowds any attention. Their eyes were set forward.

As hers should have been.

She quickly scolded herself for being so easily distracted and raised her chin, copying their stances.

Unlike the other families, her's didn't speak to anyone. They kept their noses held high and didn't walk anywhere near the other individuals. It was almost unbelievable that they were able to pave out a section of the cobblestone paths for themselves, as if the others were simply drawn away from them, letting them keep their private spaces. No one ever got close to them. None of the other children spoke to her. Well, at least none of those children. She had her own friends, they just weren't here.

Hermione made sure to not glance away from her family again. Her eyes were firm on the back of her father's black robe as she followed. Mouth shut, eyes forward, chin raised. The temptations of Diagon Alley were strong but she was stronger.

Together, they had stopped at multiple stores and item by item, each of their list of needed school supplies shrunk. It was a relief that the stores they went into were nowhere near as packed as the others they had passed. She knew it was because the prices were immensely higher than what they should have been, but it was another one of those added bonuses that came with being wealthy. Merlin forbid any of the Granger or Lestrange children get anything mediocre.

Still, she couldn't help but frown as she recalled the crowds that were gathered at some of the entrances of the shoppes that they had passed. It had made her cringe at the possibility of having to cram herself into them. She supposed that that's what her father had meant when he had said she wouldn't have enjoyed it during this week.

He hadn't been entirely wrong afterall.

But with each purchase, she became more and more restless. She had her books. She had her cauldron. She had her quills and embroidered parchment. She had her new satchel. All she needed was her school robes and her wand. Her wand. It's all she wanted. Having a wand of her own was all she needed. Nothing else mattered. However, it seemed that her parents were purposely putting it off until the end. They probably knew that the moment she obtained it, she would attempt to cast every spell she knew to her knowledge. As soon as they got home, of coarse. Underaged magic couldn't be detected through their wards.

Clothing was their next destination and there was only place that students purchased their school robes from and that was Madam Malkin's. It was fairly decent, all things considered, but it was by far from the best. It was a place that her father didn't particularly care for either and if he didn't care for it, then it was no surprise that Tom and Cygnus sneered at the building every chance they got. Her father had made them send in their own measurements this year instead of having to stand there and get tailored by Madam Malkin herself. Get in and out as soon as possible, as he had described.

However, when the signature golden pair of scissors came into view, her father didn't stop.

"The boys and I will be taking a detour to get some items for tomorrow," he spoke. With the hand not resting on top of his bejeweled cane, he motioned Tom and Cygnus forward. "You and Hermione pick up the new robes and we will meet you there when we are done."

Hermione darted a quick glance between her parents, before settling on the boys. It wasn't fair. They always got to do the fun stuff just because they were older. It's part of the reason why she was so desperate to obtain her wand. Perhaps then they would finally see her as an equal to them. That just because she was a few years younger, it didn't truly mean anything. She would be just like them one day and if she had it her way, it wouldn't be much longer.

She stayed silent, however, when her mother slipped her hand into hers and gently pulled her into the direction of the shoppe. Before they entered, she glanced over her shoulder and watched just as Tom, Cygnus, and her father disappeared around the corner onto Knockturn Alley. She had never been there before.

When a bell chimed above their heads at their arrival, Madam Malkin came rushing up to them right at once. The elder woman began to gush about how beautiful the both of them looked but Hermione hardly listened. She was used to people paying her complements just because of who she was and not if they truly meant it. As her mother conversed with the woman, Hermione left Narcissa's side and began to wander down the numerous racks of clothing, not touching anything, just allowing her mind to find something interesting.

She had her mother's voice within ear range and every few minutes, Hermione would peer between the racks. Madam Malkin was insisting her mother take a look at her newest catalogues, and her mother- being the fashion mogul that she was- couldn't resist. Her mother had inclined her head towards the back section of the store, but Hermione shook her head in response. She would much rather stay to herself than listen to the older woman brag about her garments in desperation to make a sale.

Narcissa was hesitant but she followed after Madam Malkin in hopes that it wouldn't take terribly long. Truly, they were only supposed to get the school robes and nothing more.

Hermione allowed herself to walk down the rows, and without the ever watchful eye of her mother or the owner, she tentatively reached out and skimmed her fingers against the fabrics she passed. She was in a section that her mother would never be caught dead in, but the forbiddenness drew her in. Hermione continued to push forward through the pre-owned clothing and finally began to take the garments into consideration. She lazily bypassed jumpers, vests, dresses, and trousers, and was just about to turn onto the next row when she caught sight of a bright red cardigan.

Hermione glanced up towards the direction her mother had vanished before using both of her hands to gather the garment between her hands, pulling it out of the rack to further inspect it. It was a simple piece, with long sleeves and sides that would rest mid thigh. The material didn't feel rough or scratchy and there were no blemishes in the thread that she could see. It didn't look ugly… It wasn't anything fancy and nothing like she owned but she… she quite liked it actually.

Without thinking, she brought the cardigan towards her dress and noted just how well it complimented her skin tone. It made her pale skin seem to glow in warmth, something that was hardly ever done with the blacks and greys and greens.

Suddenly, the bell chimed again, signalling the arrival of another customer and as if she had been scorched, she threw the garment back onto the rack. She tucked her head down and made a mad dash for the section of the store that wouldn't cause any brows to raise in her direction.

In her desperation, she was hardly paying close attention to where she was going, as long as she got as far away from the red cardigan as possible. She manovered herself between row after row and looked through the small gaps between the hangers to find who had entered the store or if possibly her mother had- her mouth parted in shock and gasped as she ran into something hard and stumbled backwards, fumbling to find her footwork. She was horrified when she realized that that something was actually a someone and watched in mortification as their garments went tumbling to the ground. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. She could only imagine what her mother would have done if a reckless child had ran into her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she rushed out. Instantly, she bent down to recollect them and as her hands gathered the black robes, her eyes snapped to the symbol adorned on the front. She recognized it all to well.

Her eyes slowly travelled back up to the person in front of her. When she had crashed into him, she hadn't glanced at who it had been because she had panicked at her rudeness, wanting to quickly pick up the items she had caused him to drop. But now, as she rose back up to give the robes back, she was greeted by a boy only slightly taller than herself.

Hermione's brows rose as she stared at the boy. He had pale blonde hair that was hanging loseley in his eyes, the same color as her fathers. Her gaze was locked on his and she found herself swimming in pools of liquid mercury, ethereal and vivid and utterly captivating.

She forced herself to blink in order to break the trance that had briefly held her and as she came back into the moment, she found herself greeted by a soft smile on the blonde's face. The warmth on her cheeks seemed to increase.

Hermione looked down at the bundle in her hands and slowly reached forward to hand them back. She could feel the intensity of his eyes on her face and resisted the urge to shy away. Instead, she straightened up and pushed the clothing into his hands.

"Forgive me," she replied. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I hope I didn't get those dirty."

The boy shook his head. His smile widened and put his teeth on full display. "No, it's fine," he said with a slight laugh. A laugh? She balked at how easy it was for him to brush off the entire incident. Had it been her family, they would have demanded the person never set foot into the shop again, let alone be allowed to keep their feet. Yet, here this boy was, acting as if it hadn't been a problem.

At her stunned silence, he continued, "Honestly, I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going either."

With a silent nod, she diverted her attention to the side. She didn't know what else to say but he was looking at her as if he were expecting her to. Those eyes were still locked onto her face. She had to resist the urge to reach up and cover her cheeks, sure that they were as bright as that cardigan now.

A thick silence washed over them.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip in the awkwardness of it all. Was there something on her face? Had her hair gotten wild with her romp through the store? Or even more disastrous, had he seen her in the poor section? Her eyes quickly went back to him and darted towards the robes in his hands. The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seemed more bolder than usual.

She swallowed, "I take it you will be attending Hogwarts in a few days?" The question seemed appropriate enough and really, she was desperate to end the silence. "I'll be a first year this term."

He brightened at that and she couldn't understand why he would show his emotions so openly. Didn't he know better? Emotions made people vulnerable, therefore, you were to never show them, especially to someone you didn't know. It was one of the most important rules in life. That, and to never associate with-

"Me too," he spoke. "Although I'm pretty nervous about the whole thing to be honest. I don't really know what to expect."

She raised a questioning brow at him. Who didn't know about Hogwarts? It was practically engrained at birth. She couldn't remember how many times she had read Hogwarts: A History and some of her very first memories were of her parents telling her all about their school years and how she was expected to carry on their legacy. Had his parents not done the same?

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, the sorting for one," his silver orbs drifted down to the symbol etched onto the robes. "I've been reading up on the traits each house is supposed to hold and I can't really find the place I belong."

She eyed him carefully and answered, "Sometimes it's not about where you belong, but where you want to be. And if you want to be in the house that holds the greatest honor then join the Slytherins."

It was the blonde's turn to raise his brows. "The Slytherin house?" he repeated. "I was under the conclusion that the Slytherins didn't have the best... reputation... when it came to being… er, good. I was leaning more towards Gryffindor."

The second the word left his mouth, she realized, with a great start, that she had no idea who this boy was and yet, here she was talking to him as if they had known each other for years. If Tom and Cygnus were here they would have ripped her away and scolded her for being so foolish. If her father were to see her now he would have cursed the entire building down to the ground. She wasn't supposed to talk to anyone he didn't know. She wasn't supposed to even stand this close to someone unless her father had been the one to introduce her to them. This boy was a stranger. Nothing more and nothing less.

She darted a look towards the direction of her mother but she was still talking to Madam Malkin and every fiber of Hermione's being revolted at the possibility of having to hear the women drone on and on. No, she wanted nothing to do with them.

However, it wasn't as if she could walk away and continue down the other aisles as if he weren't there. It would be extremely rude on her part and besides, her mother had always harped the importance of manners. But, even more importantly, none of her family was here at the moment. None of them could see what she was doing. In a sense, she could do anything she wanted, even if it were only for a short time. She didn't have to follow the rules and they wouldn't have the slightest clue.

Her head turned back towards the blonde boy. "What's your name?"

"Oh, sorry about that," he said. He straightened up and offered his free hand forward, the one not holding his pile of robes. "My name is Draco Maddox. It's nice to meet you."

The hand between them spoke volumes and she couldn't help but stare at it, over analyzing so hard that she swore her brain were seconds from exploding.

She didn't recognize the surname, nothing resembling it either. She recited the short list of the Sacred Twenty Eight and his was nowhere to be found; only two started with 'M'- the Macmillans weren't friends and the other family had disappeared without a trace. If he were a pureblood then she would have heard of him before… Her eyes widened. She knew nearly every pureblood that there was. Heck, most of them were related to her in one way or another. But this boy- Draco- wasn't ringing any bells and she never doubted her memory. It could only mean one thing.

Hermione knew, then and there, that she should spin around on the heel of her foot and not give another second of her time. She knew that if she were Tom or Cygnus or either of her parents, they would have turned a cold shoulder and walked away from Draco without the slightest consideration of his feelings. Manners be damned.

She knew what she should do, but... she found that she didn't want to. It was actually nice to have a conversation with someone new and not have to worry about saying the right things to the right people. It was like a breath of fresh air with him and she quite enjoyed it. Almost as if she had needed it her entire life and hadn't known.

She gave him a soft smile as she clasped her hand with his own. "Hermione Granger," she provided. "It's nice to meet you as well."

And she meant it. Despite...everything, she truly did mean the words she said.

When she released his hand, she couldn't help the next words that flew from her mouth. "Are you a half-blood?"

Draco looked at her hesitantly, with so much apprehension that she knew the answer before he spoke. She wondered if he already knew that there were some pureblood families, like hers, that didn't associate with mudblo- those kind. Could he know that she wasn't supposed to talk to him at all? Or that if her family were to know what he was, they would sneer at him on the spot and treat him worse than a blasted house elf?

She watched as his lips formed the words and desperately tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest.

"No, I'm a muggleborn."

Hermione forced a nod. She would not flinch. She would not run. She would not react.

"I figured," she said, voice composed despite the emotions that were wracking through her frame. Her throat felt incredibly dry but she was able to swallow it away. "In pureblood families, everyone knows everyone and… well, obviously I didn't know who you were. That only left two other options…" Hermione reddened at her babbling and cleared her throat, quickly changing the subject. "Are you here alone?"

Draco shook his head. "My mother is with one of the workers in the back getting my wizarding robes ready for term. I wanted a bit of both; some regular clothes and some magical, figured it might be a bit easier to fit in."

She didn't remark how his 'regular' clothes was completely different than her 'regular' clothes. It was the small things that was the stark reminder that they came from such different places. Yet, here they both were in the same shoppe getting the same robes and talking to one another. It seemed easy for him, as if he didn't see how forbidden this was. It was truly mind boggling. Here he was, this mudblood, sharing the same air as her and there was no difference. She had heard the stories. Mudbloods were supposed to be disgusting and revolting and be the worst disaster to happen to the Wizarding World but Draco didn't look like any of it. Perhaps not all mudbloods were like that? Perhaps he was just different? She had never met, let alone talked to one before so it wasn't as if she had experience to back herself up with. She knew nothing about them, only to keep away at all cost. To sneer and insult them at every opportunity, and show them that they weren't wanted, that they were the inferior ones who belonged beneath people like her.

Her mind was screaming at her to run. After eleven years of being told what scum mudbloods were, it felt wrong not to run. Her lips wanted to sneer and she could feel the muscles twitching against their instinct. It wouldn't be long until the mud that ran through his veins contaminated her own at his close proximity. How long would it be until hers turned brown just as his, a vile concoction that would ruin the sacred vermillion fluids that ran throughout her body. Would... Would it be as terrible as they all claimed? He looked so normal. He acted so normal. She liked him for Merlin's sake.

But she knew she shouldn't.

"I'm here with my mother as well," she spoke. It took everything in her to not strain her words. Her hands were wringing themselves as she clutched the fabric of her dress. Her nerves were dancing across her skin. "We were just picking up our robes but Madam Malkin-"

"Hermione, darling?"

Panic seized her when she heard her mother's voice. Her eyes widened and she hurriedly began to turn away from Draco, but it was much too late.

Her mother was striding down the aisle with the look of pure elegance on her face but as she got closer, Hermione saw her brown eyes lock onto the boy. It felt as if her heart sank to her toes. She could feel the dread begin to consume her whole.

"Mother," she smiled as perfectly as she could as her mother approached them. The corners of her cheeks hurt but it was a small price she was willing to pay. Hermione acted as if she had done nothing wrong. Feigned ignorance was key.

Hermione watched as her mother had yet to take her questioning stare from Draco, her brows raised on her forehead. Hermione knew what the gesture meant. The older witch was waiting for an explanation.

Her throat felt tight but she pushed through and reached out to grab her mother's hand as she nodded towards the blonde boy.

"Mother, this is my new friend, Draco Maddox," she rushed out his last name in a quick breath. She saw the surprise in her mother's dark eyes. Had she been too hasty in her words? Had friend been the correct term? Everyone else she had ever talked to was considered a friend, so why not Draco?

She watched as Narcissa snapped her gaze up and quickly scanned the area for prying individuals. Could her mother feel how forbidden this was? Could her mother tell what he was, could she sense it? Hermione's heart pounded in her chest.

But then, her mother smiled and Hermione was careful to not stare in shock.

"Well, hello Draco. Your name is absolutely lovely," she said. "Constellations have always been one of my favorite subjects. Quite a strong name for such a strong boy."

Hermione had been watching the interaction with hawk-like eyes.

Narcissa's words made Draco beam. "Thank you," he returned. His eyes were like liquid silver when he smiled. Hermione thought it was a beautiful sight to behold. More precious that the jewelry that hung from her mother's neck or the diamonds that rested on their ears.

"Mother, Draco is going to be starting his first year at Hogwarts with me," Hermione continued. The nerves were fading less and less. If her mother couldn't tell that Draco was a mudblood, then would the others? If they couldn't then she would be able to talk to him once they started term- she could be his real, true friend. Then again, there was the whole Gryffindor thing, which would only add to the barriers of making it impossible to ever say a word to one another while at Hogwarts. Then again, would they really care if a Slytherin like herself talked to a Gryffindor such as him? She felt that the matter would be insignificant compared to the other students lives at Hogwarts. Why would they care? They would have more important things to worry about than who she did or didn't talk to. Perhaps she was just overthinking the entire thing.

Yes, that had to be it.

With her worries pushed aside, Hermione engaged in conversation with her mother and Draco. Hermione hardly realized how much time had passed until her mother was grabbing onto her hand and nodding towards the windows. Hermione followed her mother's line of sight and saw the striking flash of pale blonde hair of her father and the two teenage boys that were close behind him. Her panic violently crashed back onto her. Oh no- no, no, no, no.

"Draco it has been wonderful meeting you but unfortunately, Hermione and I have to be on our way now," Narcissa inclined her head in a wordless parting but the more Hermione listened, she could hear the soft tones of urgency. "I wish you the best with your time at Hogwarts. Hermione, dear, we must be going."

She knew that. Her father was not a patient man and she wouldn't dare risk him coming into the shop. She had no doubt that her father, Lucius Granger- pureblood elite, Sacred Twenty Eight- could spot a mudblood in a heartbeat. Less than that even.

Hermione was quick to say her goodbye and shake Draco's hand in departure. The feel of his palm against hers made her smile. She was proud that she had met him; the first person she had ever met on her own without her father there to direct the conversation. She had found him on her own and it was the best feeling she ever felt. She would have wanted nothing more than to take her with him but she knew better.

Her head stayed turned as her mother pulled her towards the door, memorizing his face for the next time they would meet. Her smile didn't diminish even as she waved her goodbye and as the door broke her view.

It didn't go away for the rest of the day in fact.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hermione stared down the length of her wand, watching in fascination as the tip bled its faint wisps of grey smoke. She let her gaze travel to the destruction she had caused and grinned at the sight.

"Well," Cygnus lazily drawled, kicking at the remnant pieces of a shattered long table. "We know that you can cast regular spells, but how about you try something a bit more… damning?"

Her brows rose and she turned to look at her brother. Had a Reducto not been enough? Tom was leaned against the wall with his face hidden in the shadows, but his eyes were watching their every move; analyzing and judging, making sure her wand movements were as close to perfection as possible.

At her look of disbelief, however, Tom kicked off the wall and pushed forward towards them. He cocked his head to the side as he advanced.

"That, Cygnus, sounds like an excellent idea. Something that is a true Dark Arts masterpiece. Perhaps," he grinned, sharing a quick glance with their cousin, "one of the unforgivables?"

Her eyes widened. She knew what the unforgivables were, she was no fool. But the unforgivables were...well, unforgivable for specific reasons. They were dark and dangerous and not for the faint of heart, not for her. A first year had no business casting one, let alone any student in Hogwarts, and she wasn't even a true one yet!

"An unforgivable?" she clarified, her voice tight. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"

Tom frowned as he looked at her. "No," he said. "If you start with the hardest spells to master then everything else will be elementary. Wouldn't you agree?"

His eyes were boring into her, daring her to say otherwise. She could feel Cygnus' too, trained onto her face and waiting for her to speak. Her cousin was twiddling his wand between his fingers with expertise.

"I… well, yes I suppose," she fumbled with her words. "But-"

"Good," Tom interrupted her. "We can start now. Dobby!" he shouted.

She felt her stomach sink. Her fingers trembled slightly against the vinewood in her hand when one of the family house elves popped into the room, downed in a cushion cover, a mere thin piece of cloth that hung loosely from his small body. She hated them. Usually she avoided the creatures whenever she could. They revolted her with their wrinkly splotched skin and their big, pointed ears and how they could always bring out the side of her father, Tom, and Cygnus that she hated to see- their cruelness, their spite and hatred.

She hated the creatures with every fiber of her being and yet, no matter how hard she tried to ignore them, they were always there- cleaning the manor, putting away her things, tending on her every beck and call and insisting they were hers to command. Stupid, stupid creatures.

She couldn't even bring herself to look at Dobby as he stood before them. Her stare was diverted above the creatures bald head, refusing to look into those abnormally large green eyes as Tom began to circle him, a predator seconds away from devouring its prey.

"Dobby, you are just a worthless house elf, correct? Nothing more than a slave at your master's behalf," Tom sneered.

The elf bobbed its head up and down, his head down low as he bowed. "Yes, Master Tom. I live to serve your family."

Cygnus began to approach the elf, easily bypassing Hermione and sneering at the creature in disgust.

"Then you would be glad for my little sister to practice her magic on you, right?" Dobby cowered at Tom's sharp tone.

Dobby wrung his bony hands together. "The h-honor would b-be all mine, Master Tom." The elf turned his head towards Hermione, letting its eyes search her face.

She met its gaze head on, refusing to allow it to see the turmoil that bubbled beneath her skin. She would show it nothing.

Her grip tightened on her wand.

"Let's begin then," Tom shifted his head to look pointedly at her.

Cygnus was still twiddling his wand. Tom was staring at her unblinkingly.

The blood was pounding in her ears.

She could do this. If they could do it so easily, why couldn't she? It was just a stupid house elf. A useless bloody creature. She had to prove her worth. She had to show them that she was just like them. It was expected of her eventually.

Her grip around her wand was so tight that she feared it may snap. She had to force her fingers to relax and swallowed hard.

One little spell. One word was all it took.

She raised her wand up once again. With a heavy inhale she opened her mouth and-

The doors of the drawing room opened and collectively, the three of them turned. She had to peer around Tom and Cygnus. Hermione brought her wand down immediately as she caught sight of her mother. The older witch's gaze switched from them to the elf and back again.

"Dinner is ready," she spoke. Was that disappointment on her face? "You three are done for the day."

Tom and Cygnus looked towards one another, both glancing back towards Dobby. It was evident that they didn't want to leave, as if they had no problem ignoring what their mother had said as long as it meant they could make the elf hurt.

"Now boys," Narcissa spoke again. This time the authority was clear in her voice.

Cygnus tucked his wand into his sleeve and strided towards the door. Tom, however, tipped his head back, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and slowly- arrogantly- followed after. With them gone, her mother's eyes locked onto her. Her piercing gaze drifted down to the wand gripped in her hand.

Hermione opened her mouth, "I-"

"Now Hermione." Her mother stomped forward and without another word, she held out her hand and pulled Hermione from the room.

The following morning, she woke up with nerves heavily embedded throughout her system. This was her last day. Tomorrow she would get on the Hogwarts Express and start her life as a student, tucked away into a castle with others just like her- Vince, Gregg, Theo, Tom, Cygnus… Draco, they would all be there. With her and without the constant supervision from their parents. It seemed like paradise, nearly. It was almost too much to fathom.

But tomorrow seemed so far away.

According to her father, they had plans for the day. A 'business meeting' as he had called it, which usually involved meeting up with their family friends while spending the day in Diagon Alley. Of course they weren't allowed in their father's 'business meeting' but she didn't mind. She quite enjoyed them actually because she was able to see her friends- the children of her father's friends really. But they were all she had ever known, apart from Draco. They were all she had.

At her turn of thoughts, her mind wandered to the previous day. Not the near incident with Dobby or getting her very own wand. No, her mind went straight to Draco Maddox, the Mud- Muggleborn. He was so… different compared to her friends. He had emotions and smiled and didn't have any care in the world and had manners and was so polite and- and she liked him.

She smiled into her pillows. She wondered if she would possibly see him today in Diagon or perhaps at least tomorrow on Hogwart's Platform. He would be there but the point of the matter was if she would see him. She could still remember the chaos when she had went with her parents to see Tom and Cygnus off for their first year. The place was going to be packed, crammed nearly from shoulder to shoulder as parents and siblings hugged goodbye. So the chance of seeing Draco was going to be slim to none.

But the chance was still there, even if only slight. Maybe, just maybe, she would see him. Maybe he could sit with her on the train and maybe they could stand by each other during their sorting and maybe he would actually be sorted into Slytherin with her. The possibility was there.

However… her smile vanished as reality crashed back into her. Draco wanted to be in Gryffindor. He wouldn't be sitting with her on the train because she was expected to be with Tom and Cygnus and the others. She wouldn't be standing by him during their sorting because surely Greg and Vince would spot him like a sore thumb, their instincts sharp like that of their fathers.

She sighed. Leave it to her to finally make an actual friend on her own only to find that he is the exact thing she was forbidden to ever speak to. It wasn't fair.

It was a cruel draw of fate.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

As Hermione entered the dining room she was surprised to see Tom sitting down eating his breakfast alone. It was still quite early in the morning and it would probably be several more minutes until Cygnus and the others came down, but the silent peacefulness of it all wasn't something she wouldn't take for granted. She had grown to appreciate the silence since an early age.

When she sat down across from Tom, few of the house elves rushed up to her with breakfast platters and didn't hesitate to pile up her plate. She paid no attention to them, and instead, looked at Tom, who was already watching her. He had a slight sneer on his face that was directed towards the house elves as they scurried around her.

She paid it no mind and smiled, "Good morning, brother."

He returned the greeting but he wasted no time sliding the newest copy of the Daily Prophet towards her. Her brows furrowed slightly when she caught sight of a boy walking beside the half-giant, Hagrid, that she knew was the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. She glanced up towards her brother in confusion but then he tapped down at the headline that she hadn't bothered to red. It's bolded black lettering made her jaw drop in shock: The Boy-Who-Lived Spotted in Diagon Alley.

"Has father seen this yet?" she glanced back up, her voice a quiet whisper.

Tom nodded his head. "He stormed out when I walked in. No doubt he's talking with the others."

Her gaze drifted back onto the paper in her hands and she watched closely as the boy walked the streets. He… wasn't as she imagined. He seemed disheveled, with his black hair wild and appearing as if he had never combed through it once. His clothing seemed two sizes too big and he wore glasses for Merlin's sake. This was the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord, as hard to believe as that was. In truth, she had forgotten all about the infamous Potter. He had disappeared from the Wizarding World for nearly a decade and she had always figured that if he were to ever return, it wouldn't have caught her off guard. But goodness how wrong she had been.

She couldn't imagine starting Hogwarts with him there. All of the attention would be on him. The professors would probably all favor him just because they were sympathetic towards his past. Honestly, it was quickly dampening her mood.

She knew without a doubt that Tom wouldn't pretend that Potter being there wasn't significant. Cygnus would be… she didn't even want to begin thinking about what her cousin would do. Greg and Vince would try to beat him up at every chance they got, being the brute force types. And she… what would she do?

"What does that mean for us?" she asked.

Tom leaned forward, placing his hand over Potter's picture in the Prophet. "That means we will make his life a living hell," he answered, in a tone that send chills down her spine. "Dumbledore will watch his every move, I'm sure, but we should be able to maneuver around him without getting caught. The problem, however, is-"

"Cygnus," she finished. He would be a problem. When he found out that Harry Potter would be starting term, he would, in complete honesty, flip his shite. He would be a disaster waiting to happen, doing anything and everything in his power to cause Potter hell. It would be a hard task but their father had made it clear that they were to keep their records crystal clear, cleaner than any Scourgify could do. None of them would dare to get into trouble.

"I'll make sure he keeps in check when needed," Tom said, as if the task would be as easy as discussing the weather. He was insane if he thought it would be that straightforward.

She kept that little opinion to herself though.

But Tom wasn't done speaking. He narrowed his eyes down at the paper. "I have to admit that I hadn't seen this coming. I always expected Dumbledore would keep him in hiding but it seems just like something the fool would do- bring in some halfblood arse that won't care for the difference between who's a mudblood or pureblood. I mean, the paper even says he was raised in the Muggle world all of his life so he's basically on par with those disgusting mudbloods. Worse even than all of them combined."

She bit into the flesh of her bottom lip, nodding wordlessly to the things Tom was rambling about. "The worst," she mumbled, her eyes downcasting to the plate in front of her. She wasn't hungry anymore. She felt quite sick, actually.

"The school is repulsive as it is-," he sneered, "-with all the mudbloods that roam in the halls as if its normal, but now we are expected to have no problem with Potter there too? The very person who made the Dark Lord vanish and they want everything to run smoothly? Surely they know that they will have a storm on their hands once everyone arrives."

She sat in silence as Tom continued to drone on, letting her thoughts run miles per second. The cogs were spinning, round and round and round, and she could see a bright side in all of this- faint and minute but there nonetheless. Maybe having Harry Potter there at Hogwarts could, possibly, distract Tom, Cygnus, and the others from hating the muggleborns as severely as they did. Maybe with that distraction, she could have her friendship with Draco after all.

"Tom," she spoke, softly and hesitantly. His head looked up at her expectantly, his eyes meeting hers. Hermione had to say it now before she lost her nerve. If she didn't ask now then she knew she never would. "I want to ask you something but you can't tell anyone else, not even Father."

His brows furrowed slightly and he sat up straight in his chair. She knew he didn't like keeping things from their father but she was his little sister and he had never denied her of anything. So far, at least.

Tom nodded his head for her to continue. She could see the promise in his eyes.

Hermione took in a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

"What is so different about them? The… Mudbloods, I mean. What makes them so different from us besides their blood?"

Tom's gaze hardened. "Everything makes them different from us, Hermione. Everything. You'll know what I'm talking about when you see one for yourself. They are disgusting, nothing but filthy, unworthy scum that have managed to trick people like Dumbledore into thinking they have actual magic running through their veins like you, Cygnus, and I, and Mother and Father."

Inwardly, she deflated in defeat. What he had given her, was not was she had wanted. He hadn't actually answered her question. Nothing was different between her and Draco. Nothing. But there had to be something! Otherwise, why would people harp so much on blood status' as they did?

Someone had the answers with valid explanations that she could logically understand and process. And she knew the perfect person.

Hermione pretended that Tom's answer was enough and nodded her head at him. She turned into her breakfast just as Cygnus entered the room.

The peace only lasted so long until her cousin spotted the Prophet. He stood up so quickly that his chair went tumbling to the ground. When the stream of profanities flew from his mouth, Hermione took a deep breath.

Today was going to be a very, very long day.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

One thing that Hermione cherished above all else, was when she was able to spend time with her Godfather. So whenever she got the chance to visit Spinner's End, she never refused even when Tom and Cygnus absolutely insisted that she go home and continue their lesson from the previous day.

She had never moved faster than leaving Diagon with Severus, not hesitating to throw her hasty goodbye over her shoulder and clasping her hand into her Godfather's before aparating away with a crack.

Spinner's End was her home away from home. It was nowhere near as grand as the manor but that's why she loved it so much. That, and it was always quiet. It was the perfect environment for reading or studying, just the way she liked it.

On most occasions she was there for academic purposes. From an early age she could remember watching him towering over his potion cauldron, mixing and brewing and turning the rooms such beautiful colors as the walls glowed with the various potion bottles he had stashed amongst the cabinets. As a child she had been captivated and the fascination had only grown as she got older, as she was able to understand that not every wizard could do what he did.

She liked to think of herself as his little protege. He hated when she said it, but it's what she was in a sense. He had taught her everything revolving around Potions and Defense, and as of last year, the Dark Arts, but little by little he fed to her everything he knew. By the curriculum standpoint, she was well over the third year.

And as much as he swore he detested her, she could see right through his bluff. No matter where they were, everytime she was there she could see the barely-there ghost of a smile drift across his lips. To anyone else he would have seemed his usual, cold self but she knew him almost as well as she knew herself. Hermione was his Goddaughter, after all.

"Now that the potion is glowing white, you will need to stir in the essence of Hemlock," her Godfather instructed her as she glanced into the cauldron. "Make sure you stir rapidly for half an hour to prevent the formation of ice crystals." She nodded silently, heavy in her concentration.

"Since it's almost done, can you tell me what it is?" she glanced towards Severus but not breaking the motion of her stirring.

He raised a black brow at her, closing his book with a sharp snap. "You mean you do not know? This potion is arguably one of the cruelest and sadistic potions ever created. It is also strictly illegal. When swallowed, it induces fear, delirium, and extreme thirst," he informed her.

Oh.

"So we're making Drink of Despair?," she asked for clarification, tilting her head up to her look at him. What in Merlin's name did he need the Drink of Despair for?

"Are you asking or telling?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Telling," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Go on then," he nodded towards her. "Tell me more."

She was quick to wrack through her brain. "The Drink of Despair, also known as the Emerald Potion, cannot be penetrated by hand, nor vanished, parted, siphoned away, or change its nature in any way. It can only be drained away by an individual drinking it. It glows an emerald, phosphorescent color when brewed to perfection and its duration period is six hours."

Hermione watched Severus expectantly, waiting for him to tell her that she was right. But he stayed poised, his black eyes giving nothing away as he stared back. Neither backed down from each other. She had gotten used to his impending gaze long, long ago. She didn't see him as the rest of the world did.

But then, the corner of his mouth twitched as he grinned at her response. "I see you have read your copy of Advanced Potion Making that I gave you for Christmas."

"I've read it three times actually."

He didn't seem surprised. Almost as if he had expected nothing less.

Soon enough, the thirty minutes had passed and Hermione found herself adding the drops of vitriol into the potion.

"Stir for an additional minute," he continued to instruct her. "If you did it correctly, it should turn bright green while smoking violently. It will freeze over before an explosive reaction can occur."

Just as her Godfather described, Hermione watched the liquid in the cauldron do exactly as he said. It never failed that she beamed at her work, feeling a brief surge of pride rush through her. Severus took over from there by lighting a faint fire below the cauldron with a wave of his hand to allow the potion to defrost to room temperature. She was silent as he walked over to one of his many stocked shelves to get a stoneware bottle.

As his back was turned to her, Hermione drew her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking hard about how she wanted to approach him with the 'Mudblood' situation. Who else would be more perfect? He had to teach them potions at Hogwarts, he interacted them on a daily basis once term started. If anyone would be able to tell her what seperated Mudbloods from the rest of magical society, then her Godfather would be it. More importantly, she trusted him enough that he wouldn't do anything drastic when she would ask him. Not like her father, or Tom, or Cygnus. She trusted Severus to more sane in his judgement.

Hermione glanced at the back of Severus' head. "Uncle Sev…" she began, cautiously. He merely hummed in response, not bothering to turn around to face her as he continued to prepare the bottle. "I wanted to ask you a question."

"About?"

"Well, with term starting tomorrow I just- I was just curious about- I just wanted to know-"

"Do you plan on telling me sometime today?"

She sighed and rushed out, "Why are Mudbloods so disgusting?"

Her eyes widened as Severus rushed around, his black robe billowing behind him. His gaze was incredulous as he gazed at her, brows knitted together. She cringed when she recalled the words that had left her mouth… so crast on her behalf. She hadn't meant to say it like that but it wasn't like she had a time turner around her neck.

"I beg your pardon?" he whispered. She wanted to shrink away from his tone. Like her father, when Severus got angered, he didn't shout or yell, instead, his voice turned into a deadly hiss, poison laced on his tongue.

Hermione inhaled heavily and tried again, "I asked why are Mudbloods-"

Severus cut her off with a wave of his hand, dismissing her. "I heard what you said."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion, "Then...why did- are you upset?"

"Upset?" he repeated, his gaze leveling with hers. He shook his head sharply. "I am disappointed."

Her jaw dropped in outrage. She moved around the cauldron to stand before him, her arms crossed over her chest. "And pray tell, what exactly is it that I have done wrong?

"You of all people should know better than to use such foul language."

"Foul language?" she asked, becoming even more confused than before. What foul language? But then it clicked. She knew others considered the word 'Mudblood' as an offense, but never had she realized that her Godfather was one of them. Surely her father or one of the boys had said it before, in front of him and never had Severus said anything. She felt her cheeks flame in humiliation.

"I… I believe I do not understand, Uncle. Everyone says that word."

"If you know which word I refer to, then you understand perfectly well why I do not enjoy hearing it," he bit back.

Her head shook from side to side, her auburn curls brushing against her shoulders at the movement. "But everyone-"

"Well consider yourself not everyone," he hissed. "When a person says that word, they are highly frowned upon. If anyone were to hear you say that, while at Hogwarts especially, you will not be viewed as an outstanding student. And I will not have my Goddaughter be frowned upon. I will not allow it, do you understand?"

She bit down on the insides of her cheek, refraining from making a comment that he had never said those things to Tom or Cygnus, and nodded in silence.

With the bottle in his hand, he wordlessly walked past her towards the brewing cauldron. The silence was thick as he ladled the liquid, keeping her eyes trained on his expert hands. However, her questions were still nagging at her mind. They were pounding against the front of her skull without mercy.

She could handle them no longer.

"I met one," she blurted out. "Yesterday, when we went to Diagon for our school supplies. Mother and I had went to get our robes and he- he was there and I talked to him… after knowing that he was a muggleborn. His name is Draco and he's going to be a first year just like me. He's… he's my friend."

When she finally built up the courage, she looked away from his hands and glanced up. He had frozen and his eyes were undecipherable as he stared at her. She felt small beneath his gaze. Too small.

"But I am not stupid," she pushed on."Tom and Cygnus will know what he is the very second they see him. I know that I won't be able to talk to him as if he were Vince or Greg or Theo but- but I want to still be his friend and- and I don't know what to do."

Several minutes of silence passed as the truth hung between them. Perhaps she had read her Godfather wrong and he was seconds away from summoning her father and giving him every detail of what she had admitted. Her heart began to pound at the idea of what her punishment would be, her palms began to sweat. Had it been too much in such little time?

But then, he spoke. "I think you should never speak about Draco again once you leave here. Your father musn't find out about him, nor should Tom and Cygnus or Narcissa."

She refused to admit that by all technicalities, her mother knew fully well about Draco's blood status.

"If you want my… advice, then I suggest you forget all about the boy," Severus said, not meeting her eyes. "You have a high place in the Wizarding World and a muggleborn has no business being involved in it. Surely you understand and realize that you have been born into a family that does not allow or want muggleborns in our world. You do remember what side you are on, correct? I will not stand by and allow you to make mistakes that will only end in disaster if others were to become aware."

She understood what he was telling her. He was only confirming what she had known from the second Draco had told her what he was. If her father found out, she would be casted out, burnt off of the family tapestry just as her mother's sister and left forgotten. Everything she ever cared about, gone, just because of a boy. One single, handsome blonde boy who had made her stomach flutter and cheeks redden with every second that she stood in his presence. He was just one boy.

"Do you understand?" he repeated, breaking her thoughts. His tone was harder than before.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I understand," she answered, keeping her eyes downcasted onto the floor. "You're right," she breathed. "You are absolutely right."

Her Godfather eyed her one last time, watching her reaction carefully before inclining his head towards the cauldron. He held out a second bottle, waiting for her to take it.

"I'm sure Tom and Cygnus would appreciate it if you were to take them a sample of your latest work," he spoke. "They've been asking me for something new to try on the elves, hopefully that will subdue their pestering."

"Perhaps for a week, yes," she smirked at him.

He glanced at the clock above the mantelpiece. "I suppose it is time to get you home. You of all people probably want to be up at the crack of dawn and arrive at the platform in your school robes."

"There is nothing wrong with that," she was quick to point out.

He grinned down at her. "Oh, I never said there was."

She smiled as he led her towards the fireplace.

The potion was heavy in her hand. It nearly matched the feeling in her heart.


	3. First Year (Part 1)

There were moments when he had to stop himself and blink to make sure he hadn't really gone insane. When he had first received his letter, watching as the strange owl flew across the gardens of his house, he had thought he had imagined it. But then his parents approached him with an official looking parchment, wax seal and all, and then everything made sense. The countless moments as a young child when things would float around his head, the time he accidently set the carpet on fire, or even when he could control when lights would turn on or off, and even when he had accidentally broken all of the crayons that belonged to a certain bully in grade school. Everything made so much more sense.

It was the biggest breath of relief he had ever let out. Because no longer was he some freak who had been pulled from school at the age of eight, nor the boy who couldn't play football with the other boys his age, or some person who was destined to rot away in his house and vow to never enter the public population again. He could leave all of it behind and start fresh, going to a new school where there would be other children who could do things like him, who were just like him.

When the older woman came a few days later, Professor McGonagall as she introduced herself as, it took most of his nerves away when she explained that most of the children that would be attending Hogwarts as new coming first years were nothing more than beginners like he would be. It was comforting knowing that he wouldn't be behind, and that Hogwarts would be a place he could consider a "home away from home" as the professor described. She told him he was wanted there and it was all she had to say to completely convince him that Hogwarts was the place for him. Before she had left, she had gifted him with a thick tome, Hogwarts: A History, and he had stayed up throughout the entire night thumbing the book from cover to cover, absorbing and memorizing every word and detail and clue of the world he would be entering.

At first he had thought it was all too much. There were new names and faces he memorized, talk about moving staircases made his head spin, and roaming ghosts and lessons with magical creatures had his eyes widening in excitement. But he kept reading and reading and reading until it was the day his mother was taking him to Diagon Alley to get his supplies, two days shy of term beginning.

Entering Diagon was when it all became real. Every shop he entered had a life of its own, every person he passed on the street was colorful and cheerful and he thought it couldn't get any better. Entering Diagon gave him the glimpse of a life he could live, a place where he knew he belonged. He could feel the change in himself, as if the sensations tingling beneath the thin layers of his skin was the valediction he needed. Magic, he had to remind himself of. It was the feeling of magic stirring to life as it recognized the signatures spiking all around him. He had never felt more alive.

And then he met her.

Hermione.

There was just something about her that struck him deep. It probably didn't help that she quite literally ran right into him, but it was as if there was suddenly no one else alive, just her and him and in a frightening moment afterward, he realized that he hadn't panicked at that idea. Every word she spoke, he wanted more, he wanted to know her and-and-and well, he didn't know what else but whatever it was, he wanted it. It was… concerning, to say the least, how much he thought of her following their introduction but he figured it was his mind's way of trying to stay positive as the term date approached. He figured if he at least had her, then maybe, just possibly his nerves wouldn't consume him whole when he stepped into Hogwarts.

So, of course, it only made logical sense that the very moment he passed through the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾ his gaze immediately began to scan the crowds. But when he did, his shoulders sagged in disbelief at the sight he was bombarded with.

There were people everywhere. So many families with so many children with so many carts full of trunks and cages. The noise alone nearly toppled him over as rowdy children ran about with wide smiles on their faces and flushed cheeks. It all made him feel as tall as an ant, swallowed up by the crowd without consideration.

However, a gentle hand on his shoulder brought him back, rooting him once more in the present. He turned his head to look up at his mother smiling down in encouragement at him. "This world is yours just as much as it is theirs," she spoke, reminding him.

Draco nodded, repeating the words like a mantra within his skull. With his mother's hand still on his shoulder, he pushed his cart forward. One ear listened carefully to each observation his mother made while the other trained on the crowd's roar. It was nearly impossible to actually absorb anything but he tried anyways.

When they approached the train, he was spun around by the shoulders as his mother began to look him over. She reached up to fix his already straightened collar, and gently brushed aside his hair while looking at him with such emotion in those bright blue eyes of hers. He could see she was nervous, if the fidgeting was anything to go by, but honestly, what could she possibly be worried about? It wasn't like she was the one that was minutes away from boarding a train and vanishing into the highlands of Scotland. She was going to have it easy compared to him.

"I understand that you will probably be busy when school actually starts-," she used her hands to brush against his shoulders, absentmindedly cleaning off flints that didn't exist,"- but do remember that you still have parents who love you terribly and will miss you at every moment of the day," his mother said. "I'll send you weekly packages and if you need anything write us immediately. Mind your manners and follow the rules…"

The first thing he noticed was that the noise drastically lessened. The room was still noisy but the drop had been unmissable. It was a strange combination of loud and soft that wasn't quite right so his questioning gaze wandered from his mother's face, over her shoulder and-

His breath caught in his throat.

His lips parted in disbelief when he realized he found her. He had pinched himself on the wrist just to make sure. Once he caught sight, he didn't waver.

She looked similar as he had seen her in the shop. Her soft curls were down and past her shoulders, and she wore a black dress that laid just above her knee with low heels that matched and sleeves that cut at the elbow. He recognized the woman who glided beside her as her mother but… but her nose was held high in the air and the look on her face wasn't at all kind as she had shown him. His brows furrowed as he took in the rest of the small gathering that Hermione stood with. There were five of them total. In front of Hermione there were two taller older boys who had their gazes trained forward, not giving the rest of the crowd consideration as they pushed through. He figured they were her brothers as they looked similar to Hermione; one had dark, wavy brown hair that fell in front of his eyes and the other shared the same tint as Hermione's, only straight. Neither of them looked entirely pleased, especially the one with the darker hair, but they said and did nothing but follow, with Hermione close at their heels. Draco let his gaze focus on the last member and when he did, he swallowed heavily.

Draco had never been a people person, ever, but he could recognize someone to avoid from across a room. And the tall man with pale blonde hair like his that led Hermione and the other members of her family through the platform, was someone no one wanted to approach. He walked with an arrogant stride, using a sleek black walking stick with something shiny on top, but there was no limp in his walk. His face was hard, with a displeased sneer hinting through.

It was obvious that none of them looked particularly approachable. No one from the crowd dared to step in their way or utter a single word to them. He could feel his hopes begin to diminish by the second. Only certain types of people had certain types of reputation and it wasn't through smiles and kindness that the Granger's got theirs. Draco knew that Hermione came from a pureblood background and he knew that there were some purebloods who didn't… appreciate his kind but he had failed, or perhaps refused to think that Hermione had descended from those type of hateful people. But… but if that were the case then Hermione would have certainly never dared let him talk to her in Diagon Alley. She knew what he was, he had told her, confessed it to her from the get go. It wasn't as if he had kept it a secret.

"-And for the love of everything that is good, please be careful."

His attention darted back towards his mother and once again, nodded his head in the silent promise that it was. But honestly- be careful?- he was going to bloody school. The worst that could happen is he could get a papercut from his homework or pass out onto the floor from studying too hard. He was speaking on experience with the later.

"Draco, I am serious. If either of us get one letter saying you have been-"

"Mum, I will be fine. I promise. I promise to write every week- twice a week- and I will stay on my best behavior at all times."

"At all times?" she repeated with eyebrows raised skeptically.

He grinned at her expression. "70 percent."

"70 percent? That's all?"

"Fine," he groaned. "... 75."

Her eyes narrowed, playfully, "Dra-"

A loud train whistled and jolted those that still stood on the platform. Many of the students began to hastily gather their things and huddle tightly with their families and Draco realized that this was it. It was time to board the Hogwarts Express and leave his home behind. It was time to go to his home away from home even if he suddenly couldn't remember why this was a good thing to be doing in the first place.

Part of him felt that he should charge onto that train and talk to every single person until the whole bloody school knew his name but there was another part, a much, much larger part that wanted to run screaming from the direction he had came, Hogwarts and prejudice purebloods be damned.

His mother's hands gripped his shoulders, strong and gentle in that motherly fashion. She was always exceptionally good at reading his thoughts, perhaps too good in some cases.

"Now you listen to me," she spoke sternly, with a soft smile on her face. "Some days will be hard, you have to understand that from the beginning. There will be days when you want to quit and let them win but the good days will outnumber the bad, I promise. You go into that school and show them who you are, who you really are and the potential you have. Show them how great you will be even if you have to force it." Her eyes were shiny now, with unshed tears that he knew wouldn't fall. "Your father and I love you more than the entire world-," she pressed a kiss to the smooth spanse of his cheek before nodding towards the students boarding the train, "- and they will to."

He followed her line of sight and smiled. With a short goodbye, he too made his way onto the train. Not once did he look back to the world he was leaving.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

If he thought the platform had been crowded, walking down the narrow halls of the train made him realize just how spacious outside had been. It was quite the feat having to make his way down the aisle to find a compartment. Most of them were packed already with students, all loudly chatting animatedly amongst themselves, and he politely passed those. He'd very much like to arrive at Hogwarts with his ears functioning properly and not half deaf.

The further down the train he went, he could feel the air crackling in excitement. It bounced off the train walls and made its way out of every compartment as if it were air. When he realized he had to be at least half way down the train, he figured he was too late to find a compartment that he could have all to himself. He knew he should go out there and… meet others, but he felt exhausted and, well, he was still looking. Every door he passed, a quick peer inside the window gave him the same result every door he had passed provided: Hermione was nowhere to be found.

With the next five he passed, he promised himself that whatever compartment had room, he was going to join whoever. He nearly rejoiced when it was the very next compartment he checked. There were only two boys; one redhead with too many freckles to count and the other with a mess of jet black hair and round glasses that appeared to be crooked. They looked pleasant enough.

He wasted no time sliding the door open and popping in. "Mind if I join you both?"

The redhead spoke with a mouthful of food, his cheeks bulged out, " 'Course you can. 's jus' us two." The dark haired boy nodded in agreement.

He gave his thanks and slid the door back into its original position. He chose to sit next to the one with glasses just because the chance of the redhead getting food on his nice clothes was too catastrophic for Draco to deal with. He sat up straight and held his hand out to the two. "My name is Draco Maddox."

The redhead attempted, but failed, to swallow all of food. He shook Draco's hand then said, "Name 's Ron Weasley."

Draco suppressed the shudder of feeling the moisture in Ron's hand and something that was sticky coating his freckled fingers. He was quick to move on to the boy with the crooked glasses.

"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you Draco," he smiled.

Draco's head tilted to the side in curiosity, the name instantly familiar to him. "As in the famous Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter?" he clarified.

"Yep, the one and only. Wicked right?," Ron blurted.

Uhh. Wicked as in having his parents murdered in cold blood while his infantile self watched? Wicked as in having to grow up parentless? Wicked as in having the ex-army of some deranged madman wanting to kill him at every and any chance they got? Uhh.

As far as Draco was concerned, Harry Potter was just another victim of Lord Voldemort's endless list. But, he wouldn't dare say that, so instead, he just silently nodded. Neither agreeing or disagreeing.

When Harry's shoulders eased, it was obvious he appreciated it.

It was almost too easy how they managed to slip into small talk with one another as the train slid along the tracks. Minutes passed by without Draco noticing, and although many of the other students were exploring about, the three of them stayed inside. Their little safe haven from the chaos.

No one had bothered them until two ginger twins busted through. Their heads traveled together as their gazes drifted from Ron to him and Harry, then back. "So it seems the impossible has been made possible. You've made friends!"

Ron rolled his eyes, groaning to himself. "This is Harry and Draco."

At the same time, both of their brows raised, the same, identical wicked smile plastered mischievously on their faces.

"So you're Harry Potter, ey? I'm Fred," he moved his thumb towards his twin, "and he's George."

The other twin shook his head. "No, I'm Fred, and he's George."

The first twin only grinned, and acted as if the second had never spoken. "Ron over there is our little brother, if you couldn't tell already," he waved towards his hair. "He'll forgive you if you couldn't. We've told him time and time again that the good looks had to run out eventually."

"Oi, shove off, would you?"

Collectively, the twins cackled, "See you later then!", and bolted straight back through the door they had came through.

Draco had thought that the three of them would go back to talking with each other and not have any more interference from the outside, but less than a full minute after Fred and George had left, the door was opened yet again. With a bit more force than the last visitors.

Without looking, Ron began to groan probably thinking members of his family had returned to pester him, but when the redhead looked towards the door, he paled. And then Draco saw them. Three tall boys, two of them faces he had seen before.

Draco immediately sat up straighter.

All three pairs of eyes fiercely fixated on Harry, flickering up to his scar. Hermione's brother with the dark hair had a horrid sneer on his face with an unhinged look in those dark blue eyes of his. The older boy with the same hair color as Hermione stood in the front, while the other two stood behind him. His right hand was extended to his side slightly, keeping his brother from advancing. It was him that broke the silence. "Word is that the famous Harry Potter is aboard this train," he spoke with ease. Not once did his gaze break from Harry. "Do you reckon that's true?"

The older boy stood tall as he waited for an answer, but Draco knew that Hermione's brother knew exactly who he was addressing. It was typical baiting tactics.

Harry quickly darted a look in both his and Ron's directions before looking up at the older one speaking. "I'm Harry," he answered.

The leader smiled. Draco noted it didn't reach his eyes and his mouth was tight around the edges. Draco read the expression for what it was: trouble.

"You will have to forgive our forward approach but when there is a… celebrity on board, you can't blame us for wanting a peak for ourselves, can you?" he said, accent crisp just as Hermione's had been. There was a look on his face as if he were daring them to say otherwise.

Harry shook his head, "No, not at all. But I-"

"So you agree?" came the sharp voice of the second brother. His interruption threw Harry, catching him like a deer in headlights. "You think of yourself as a celebrity?"

"N-no, I-"

"Don't let him take all of the fun, Harry," the leader tsked. "You should bask in your fame, be thankful for it. Look at all that it's gotten you."

Harry's mouth stayed agap, almost as if in disbelief, but his silence was thick in the compartment, so quiet that all that kept Draco rooted was the soft click-clacks of the railroad beneath them. Harry's silence was enough to allow the older boy to continue on. "I'm Tom Granger," he didn't offer his hand, instead, inclined his head to the right towards the second brother. "This is Cygnus," he moved his head to the left, "-and that is Theodore Nott."

To make matters even worse than they were already turning, Ron chose to clear his throat quite loudly to where Cygnus' hawk-like eyes snapped at the interruption.

His obsidian-blue eyes ranked over Ron in obvious disgust, his face pulled into a sneer. "No need to ask who you are. Red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down robes. You must be a Weasley, the family that had more children than they could afford."

Tom's gaze quickly flickered towards Draco as Cygnus spoke, but dismissed him without another second of consideration. It appeared Weasley was the easier target for them to attack, or at least was dumb enough to capture their attention.

Tom shook his head in disapproval at Ron before he turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find that there are some Wizarding families that are better than others," his eyes gave Ron a pointed look. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sorts, Potter. If you want, we can help you there."

The unspoken question lingered in the air, both Cygnus and Theodore looking at Harry expectantly with gazes that reminded Draco of snakes ready to devour their prey- all coiled and preparing to strike.

In all honesty, he expected Harry to agree with them. It was no secret that the three of them came from affluent backgrounds compared to Ron and perhaps that's what Harry would need being the 'celebrity' and all. But instead, Harry straightened his shoulders and spoke, "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

A switch had been flipped; Cygnus' eyebrows rows in audacity and shot a look towards Tom, Theodore sneered, and Tom… he seemed humored by Harry's response. The corners of his mouth raised into a slight smile. But then it was gone and he leveled Harry with a look that made Draco want to shrink into the next compartment over.

"I would be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you act a bit more polite, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasley's and it'll rub off on you," Tom spoke, a gentle but violent warning lingering behind his words. His gaze flickered towards Ron, honing in on the redhead's clenched fists and eyebrows drawn together in a deep scowl, but he merely flickered his attention back onto Harry.

"We just wanted to meet you, get an idea of what Hogwarts would be dealing with for term but there's obviously nothing worth our concern. Present yourself correctly next time, your friend over here is the perfect example," Tom gestured towards Draco but didn't take his eyes off of the one that held his attention. "Until next time, I suppose."

Before any of them could say or do anything, Tom ushered out the two other boys, leaving the three of them wide eyed and speechless.

Harry was the first to move. He marched up to the door and forcefully slid it shut with a bang. In a fluid motion powered by simmering rage, he turned the lock and yanked the blinds down. Draco didn't dare speak, knowing that Harry had every right to recollect himself. Heck, even he needed to gather himself. He hadn't expected things to be so… intense so fast.

After several minutes, however, Ron decided the silence needed to end. "They're the worst," he muttered. "Fred and George always complain about them, those three. Think they own the bloody school just because of who they are."

Draco eyed him carefully, the image of Hermione smiling at him stuck in his mind. She was nothing like them and if he hadn't seen her with them, physically, then he would have never figured they were related. Well, it was quite hard now that he had seen the two brothers up close and could pinpoint the traits they shared with Hermione, but still. He swallowed down the dryness in his throat, "And who exactly are they?" he asked. Part of him didn't know if he wanted Ron to answer that question.

"Purebloods, the worst of the lot," Ron frowned. "Top members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. If you'd heard of their families, you would keep away at all costs. Nott is just a rich kid that stays in their shadow but the other two… They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Granger's father had said they'd been bewitched. My dad never believed it, said that Lucius Granger didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"The Dark Side?" Draco repeated. No, no, no… that wouldn't make any sense. "Are you sure? Would it honestly be that surprising if they actually had been bewitched? It's magic."

Ron shrugged. "If they truly were bewitched then they wouldn't be the way they are now, walking around like they own the place and sneering down at those they deem as their 'inferiors'."

"But you aren't entirely sure," Draco pointed out.

Ron gave him a strange look. "I mean, I suppose not but that-" his baby blue gaze shot towards the door, "- was child's play. I've heard of the stories. They aren't good people, nothing but rotten Slytherins."

Draco wanted to ask more questions but he bit into his tongue, knowing that he wasn't supposed to care as much. He was supposed to take the warning and avoid them like a plague. He wasn't supposed to be curious. But goodness it was hard. It hadn't forbode his attention that Ron hadn't mentioned anything about Hermione, so perhaps-

"So it's just those three that will be the problem? I doubt their fixation with Harry will stop now," he looked apologetically towards the boy who was listening closely but silently.

Ron frowned, "Not sure. I do know that there's a girl, a Granger. I've seen her at the few Ministry events that my father took us to. Along with sons from both Crabbe and Goyle, they're close with the Grangers. Their fathers too were suspected followers of You-Know-Who. Unpleasant lot, if you ask me."

Harry finally chose that moment to speak. "Are you sure they're first years as well?"

"Positive," Ron nodded his head frantically. "I saw them all in Diagon Alley yesterday at a sweet shop. Overheard them talking about it." Suddenly Ron groaned loudly, "That means we will have classes with them. Percy said that Gryffindors are usually paired with Slytherins."

Draco sat back into his seat, feeling defeated like never before. "And you just happen to be sure they'll all be sorted into Slytherin?" he bit out, a snarky retort on his part.

Ron snorted. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see, won't we?"

With pursed lips, Draco prepared himself to give another smart reply, when suddenly a voice from overhead echoed throughout the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Draco felt knots in his stomach tighten. One glance at Harry said he was feeling the same.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

When the train slowed down and finally stopped, students pushed their way towards the doors and out onto a dimly lit platform.

The boy's shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing past the heads of the students.

"Firs' Years! Firs' Years over here!" A giant man bellowed into the crowd. "Firs' Years follow me."

The first year students followed the giant that Harry addressed as Hagrid, down a steep narrow path.

"You'll get yer first peaks at Hogwarts in jus' a moment. It's jus' around this curve."

As Hagrid led the group onwards, everyone gasped. The students stood along the edge of a great, black lake. Perched atop the high mountain stood a vast castle with many towers and windows.

"No more than four to a boat," Hagrid called out as he pointed towards little boats that lined the water's edge. Draco, Harry, and Ron clumsily climbed into the nearest one.

Before Draco settled in the seat, his eyes swept over the heads of the students. It was easier now that there was only perhaps two dozen students that took to the boats. She was easy to spot and he watched as two stockier boys climbed in a boat before her, both holding out their hands and helping her climb in behind them. He figured they were Crabbe and Goyle, the ones Ron had briefly mentioned. But there was another that stood behind Hermione as she settled in. He had dark skin that greatly contrasted Hermione's in the pale light of the moon, but he sat in the space next to her and she quickly gave him a smile.

Draco could feel the frown on his face as he looked on, a horrid feeling eating him from the inside out, but he didn't get to linger on those thoughts long as he suddenly felt the boat shift from side to side.

"S-Sorry! Sorry. Sorry. Didn't mean to make the boat move. Sorry." A boy with extremely large front teeth stepped into the boat and sat next to Ron. "H-Hagrid told me to join you. All the other boats were t-taken." He quickly stuck out his hand and clasped it into Draco's. "I'm Neville." Harry and Ron quickly shook his hand in return.

When the students were settled, Hagrid called out to them. "Onward!"

The word seemed to echo through his skull for a moment, unreal in a sense. Yet still, quietly, he, along with the other first years rowed their small boats closer and closer to the castle; closer and closer to the world that would now be his own. Somehow though, it felt more than that, but Draco didn't let his thoughts linger.

He had a boat to row, after all.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

When Hagrid led them to a thick pair of double doors, Draco had to resist the urge to turn around and scan the faces behind him. Well, scan for one particular face, that is. He, Ron, and Harry had stayed glued behind Hagrid which resulted in him not getting to scope out his new classmates as he would have liked. Instead, he stayed huddled in his un-housed Hogwarts robe and waited for- well, he didn't quite know. He figured someone was designated into letting them in, although reaching out and opening the door themselves didn't seem like a far fetched idea either.

When the seconds went by, he was beginning to think they had all been forgotten but then, the doors groaned to life and an older woman- one that he recognised immediately as Professor McGonagall- escorted them inside the castle. The very moment his feet crossed the threshold, Draco felt the air gush from his lungs. His eyes quickly shot from the ceiling to the walls, marveling at the statues and paintings that littered the stone walls. Their footsteps were loud against the stone floor as Professor McGonagall led them further, into a corridor that led to another pair of tall, double doors that Draco could make out light bleeding from the gaps against the floor. From the noise alone he was sure that the entire school was behind those doors.

And sure enough, when the doors breezed open and Professor McGonagall strided through, hundreds of eyes snapped to the crowd of first years. Draco paid none of them attention and instead, kept his gaze to the ceiling as he took in the thousands of candles that were suspended in the air, beneath a ceiling that mirrored the outdoor skies and stars that twinkled. When he moved his head to the side, he saw the rest of the students that filled four long tables, each representing their house colors of blue, green, red, and yellow. From a quick look, the tables looked full apart from a few empty spots at each and he wondered briefly if there would be enough room for the first years that would be joining those tables soon.

Professor McGonagall led them up to the front where there was another long table that stood horizontal to the others and allowed the teachers to overlook the students. It was then that Draco noted a four-legged stool that rested on the stage and on it, was a battered and beaten hat that was frayed along the edges. It was with baited breath that he waited for the Sorting Hat to come to life and when it did, he found his pulse start to beat frantically. It was so surreal to see an inanimate object speak and he had to remind himself over and over that magic would be his new familiarity: magic, magic, magic.

Soon, this would all be normal, he thought to himself.

Although he doubted that he would ever stop getting a rush when seeing such things. They were much too, well, magical.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hermione hardly listened to the Sorting Hat. She didn't care what it would say; as it was apparently the same year after year, or as Tom and Cygnus had told her. Although even if she truly did try to listen, it would have been incredibly hard as her mind felt as if it were going to explode. She knew she had nothing to worry about, knowing that it was ultimately her choice in which house she would be sorted into but still- it was unnerving knowing that that stupid hat was going to be squirming through her thoughts.

Or, even more imposing, exactly just who she was mulling over.

He stuck out like a sore thumb, with that pale blonde hair of his. No one else had that shade amongst the first years so everywhere she looked, he was always in her frame of vision. Always. She had to stare at the back of his head as that giant oaf led them up to Hogwarts, then had to watch as he made his way into the Great Hall with that ginger waste-of-air and of all people, Harry Potter himself. Which, of course that's who he had to go and befriend. Of all the students, it made perfect sense for him. Just to make her life that much more difficult.

Then again, she had to remind herself with force, it was none of her concern.

She and him would have no contact, no words, no nothing.

So, with more force than she felt was necessary, she tore her attention away from him and onto things that mattered. She turned her head towards the Slytherin table and instantly found the comfort she needed. Cygnus was sitting next to Theo, across from Tom and the empty spot to his right. She had no curiosities as to who the spot was for, nor the ones next to those.

Her attention snapped back towards the stage as she heard Vince groan low to her side. Professor McGonagall had pulled out a scroll and began to read.

In the end, she joined her rightful spot at her brother's side with Vince and Greg. She kept her head held high when Draco's name was called and purposefully ignored the heavy weight of her Godfather's stare as it bore into the side of her face. She didn't turn and watch Draco stride purposefully to the Gryffindor table despite the bad taste in her mouth.

She did flinch, however, when Potter's name was called and she felt the anger and fury and absolute wrath of those all around her. It made the air thick and heavy, and it felt too toxic to inhale. She had to divert her attention down onto her hands in order to avoid the coldness she saw in Tom and Cygnus' sharpened gazes. She had looked briefly at Theo hoping and praying that he would be her closest familiarity, but he too had gone and left in his place was a stranger that had tense shoulders and a jaw that was too clenched. Their reaction had been worse than when Longbottom had been called and that had been bad but this…

Hermione couldn't help but wonder why, in Merlin's name, Potter would be daft enough to come back. Did he expect everyone would be okay with what he represented? That it was he that took the Dark Lord away and now it was them that had to deal with it?

When Potter jumped from the stool, Tom drew in close to her side as he leaned forward to address Cygnus and Theo, "As fucking miserable as possible, starting tomorrow. Understood?" his question was directed more at Theo than Cygnus, but nonetheless, both nodded. There was a sickly grin on Cygnus' face that was reminiscent to the one he wore when he tortured the house elves but those were creatures and Potter was no creature. And there would be, no doubt, professors watching Potter's every move and-

"Hermione," Tom's voice had her jolting back to the present. They were all looking at her expectantly: Cygnus, Theo, Vince, and Greg. She turned her head to the left, meeting her brother's gaze without hesitation. His dark gaze studied her face for a brief moment, softening around the edges as he took her in. "Understood?" he repeated. His eyes still studied her as he awaited her answer as if he were trying to detect the slightest break or slip.

But she knew what he wanted, what he always wanted, and she straightened up and firmly nodded her head. "Understood," she answered.

He considered her for a moment and she desperately tried not to fall beneath the force of his stare, opting for holding his own gaze for as long as she could. But then, he nodded his head, slowly, and the corner of his mouth drifted into a lopsided grin. With his right arm, he wrapped it around her slim shoulders and pulled her in close. His lips planted a quick kiss to the top of her head, his fingers holding her close, tightly against him until he pulled back. His arm brushed down the length of hers before returning to his side.

Soon the list came to an end and she smiled when Blaise Zabini- a boy she met on the train- sat on the other side of her. She may have lost her first friendship but at least she got to keep her second. It was a small victory.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

For Draco, the first few days of the term had been a blur of new faces and strange classrooms. And although he had never pondered the possibility of boring classes, he was quite relieved that they were all quite enjoyable; each in their own unique way and yes, that included History of Magic.

The sheer amount of students had taken some time getting used to though. He was used to having volumes of unoccupied space all the time, being homeschooled and as a single child, but it wasn't something that bothered him. Instead (and quite surprisingly), he actually got along well with the other students. Friends had always been an alienated subject growing up but here it seemed that the possibilities were never ending. Harry and Ron were the main two he stayed with but it wasn't rare for Neville or Seamus or Dean to be far away. It was quite fun most times, between classes and rec hours, but it never failed that at the end of the day, he would get the reminder that there was someone missing.

At diner he always managed to sit on the side of the table that gave him direct sight towards the Slytherins and there she would be, nestled between the gang that was ever present, without the slightest care in the world as she mingled and talked and-

He understood. As much as it...pained him to admit, he did. He had been delusional to think that she would approach, that she would walk up to him in a crowded corridor and say 'hi' or ask him to join her in the library or- He understood. Now.

It helped a lot though when Harry and Ron had stormed into the Common Room two nights before, with Ron's face a bright shade of red and Harry so angered that he refused to speak until he calmed down enough to utter a string of coherent words. They had explained how Tom and Cygnus had approached them, insults and jabs hot and heavy, and that it was only the sudden presence of Nearly-Headless-Nick that the confrontation ended. Ron was adamant that if the ghost hadn't shown up, then one of them would have used their wands and done something way worse.

And then, the message was made crystal clear when Crabbe and Goyle had managed to trip Harry in the hall the day before. Draco had been at the front and when he turned towards the commotion, he swore that he locked eyes with Hermione but when his gaze focused on what had transpired, she was turned and talking to a boy with ebony skin, and held not the slightest concern of what her friends had done to Harry. He had bent down to help Harry up and by the time they stood, the four Slytherins were laughing together. Draco had been quick to get back into motion.

So, by the time the third day of term arrived, he considered it both a blessing and a curse that the Gryffindors had yet to be paired with the Slytherins for a class. But of course- of course- they wouldn't be that lucky.

The word around Hogwarts was that Potions was the class everyone dreaded, not because of the subject but because of the Professor who just happened to be the Head of Slytherin and absolutely loathed every other house. So it only made sense that Potions was the class they would share with the snakes. As a joke, the older members of their house had wished them good luck after breakfast and Fred had actually shouted, "Have fun in hell!" when he sauntered out with the others.

Draco had made sure the three of them arrived early for class. The last thing he wanted to do was get on Professor Snape's bad side by being late. He could already imagine that shitestorm.

When they entered the dungeons Draco noticed immediately that it was colder there than up in the main parts of the castle. He couldn't help but wonder about the Slytherin's dorm rooms since they too were located down in the dungeons, or at least that's what the rumor was. Draco honestly couldn't imagine it, even if he tried, as he was so used to the Gryffindor rooms being warm and-

"Well look who decided to grace us with their presence," a cold, female voice teased. Draco had tried to push to the front of the classroom as quickly as he could, trying to bypass the Slytherins that decided they had ownership of the back of the classroom, but of course they were going to say something. It would have been against their nature not to.

Draco had simply shot the girl an unimpressed look but she had her eyes set on Harry and Harry alone. She had a short, black bob haircut and an awful looking pug face that couldn't look pleasing even if the girl tried. But she had drawn everyone's attention and now everyone watched on; green and red clashing violently as they dared each other to take the first move. No one was moving though, knowing it wouldn't be good if any of them did. He quickly scanned the desks as they passed, making sure he looked nowhere near where Hermione sat. She was sitting next to Zabini, with Crabbe and Goyle at the desk behind hers. Her head turned away from him when he passed and he would be lying if he said the action didn't physically stab him in the stomach. He swallowed down the thickness in his throat.

At this point though, Harry was starting to get used to the jibes and continued to make his way to the front with Draco and Ron following close behind. They weren't immune to the laughter that continued to flood from the back. Harry managed to slide in next to Draco just as the door slammed open.

The Gryffindors quickly learned however, that being in the front meant getting all of Professor Snape's attention.

Draco watched the Potions Professor make his way to the front of the room, with his black robes bellowing behind him and black eyes sharp. "There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few-," Draco watched Snape's gaze flow over his shoulder, towards the direction Draco knew Hermione was at. "-who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death," Snape spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the room was so quiet that they caught every word.

Harry and Draco exchanged looks with raised eyebrows as Snape turned to grab the roll call. Both of them were nervous, and by the looks of it, the rest of their housemates were as well. Draco smothered the urge to twist in his seat to see if the Slytherins were just as worried. But he didn't.

One by one, Snape called their names to check if they were present. Draco noticed that he checked off the names faster than he called them. That meant that he already knew the majority of them. He didn't miss the way the Professor's hand stopped after he checked the name of Neville Longbottom. Suddenly, Snape snapped his eyes to Draco, capturing him as if he were frozen. The Professor's eyes were cold and sharp and made Draco feel like he was drowning in black water, sinking further and further.

"Draco Maddox," his voice called. To Draco's ears, the Professor's tone was darker than before and it had his eyes widening slightly. He couldn't help but wonder if he had done something wrong; perhaps he was sitting in the wrong seat or-or- he couldn't bloody think straight as Snape's black gaze burned holes into his skull. But just as quickly as Snape rounded on him, the Professor turned back to his list and resumed calling roll.

They were nearly done when, "Ah, yes," Professor Snape drawled out, "Harry Potter. Our new- celebrity."

Most of the Slytherins sniggered behind their hands.

Harry didn't make eye contact with the Professor, nor did he comment. He kept his head down and opened up his notebook and began to prepare his notes for class. Draco watched him through the corner of his eyes, silently pleading for him to do something as Professor Snape continued to look at him. This was not a time for Harry to stay silent, he needed to-

"Then again-," came Snape's cold drawl, "-maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not..pay..attention. Potter!"

Draco nudged Harry in the side whenever he noticed Snape narrow his eyes in agitation. Harry raised his head up to the Professor draped in black with worried-filled eyes and the bit of rebellion that Draco was beginning to recognize clearly when it came to his friend. Harry stared openly at the professor.

"Tell me, what would i get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape said suddenly.

Draco saw Harry cast a sideways glance in his direction for help, but Draco kept his eyes trained on the desktop.

"I don't know, sir," Harry replied.

Snape's lips curled into a condescending sneer. "Let's try again then. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Draco turned to look at the students in the back that were shaking with laughter. Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of them were all failing miserably to hide their amusement. He looked towards Hermione and found that she was not laughing along with her classmates. Instead, she had a slight frown on her face and was looking at Harry in disappointment as if she had expected more of him. But then, her gaze slipped to the side and suddenly, their gazes were clashing. His lips parted in shock and she sat up straighter in her chair, allowing the seconds to tick between them like strong pushes and pulls that were in a strange state of equilibrium. Before his mind could recover, she was turning her head away from him and towards Zabini, bringing her elbow up on the desk and using her hand to lean against.

He had thought the sting of rejection would hurt less every time he experienced it, but dear Godric was he wrong. So painfully wrong.

Draco turned away without another thought just as Harry answered for the second time, "I don't know, sir."

There was a horrendous look of success on Professor Snape's face as he stood before them, those black eyes cruel and unrelenting upon Harry. "Last chance to redeem yourself, Potter," he spoke.  
"What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Draco watched as Harry's jaw clenched deathly tight. "If I knew, then I would answer. Sir."

There was a collective inhale of gasps from the back of the room, many students had their eyebrows raised in bewilderment. When Draco chanced a look at their professor, his face was remarkably… blank. He looked bored and unimpressed but Draco could see the silent fury burning behind the coals of his stare.

"Clearly fame isn't everything," Snape said in that deadly tone of his.

The Potions Professor turned his attention towards the students in the back. "Anyone want to answer the three questions that Mr. Potter failed to do." Draco watched Snape make his way towards the back of the classroom to address the snakes. "How about you, Miss Granger?"

"Asphodel and Wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death," she gave, not missing a beat and not allowing her attention to stray from their professor. "A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save an individual from most poisons. As for Monkshood and Wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of Aconite."

The Slytherins all smiled crooked smiles as they sneered towards Harry and the other Gryffindors.

Snape quickly turned around, his eyes flickering against the students in the front, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and notebooks. As Snape walked back up to his desk, he stopped beside Harry. "Oh, and Potter.. Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek."

Once again, the Slytherins openly laughed. The sound scratched against Draco's eardrums.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Double Potions had been hell, to put it lightly. And that was saying something since Potions was her favorite subject in more ways than one. From having to listen to her housemates poke fun at Potter with jokes that made her want to cringe every time, and having to listen to a lesson she had learned when she was six, and then the worst part of it all was feeling self-conscious like never before to the point where she had even began to calculate how even her breathing should be. No matter how much she tried to ignore him, he was there; not talking or looking, but it was as if his presence was enough to make her go completely ballistic with tension.

And as if double potions hadn't been enough for her torment, her next class was flying. With the bloody Gryffindors. The only positive thing she had experienced in the day so far was having lunch to recollect herself.

"All you have to say is 'Up'," Tom instructed her. "Madam Hooch is going to tell you to talk to the damn thing as if it is a person but-," Tom shook his head, "-just act like its a house elf and order it to do as you say. You have to mean it."

Cygnus snorted. "If it can detect your unwillingness to get on it, it won't move. It's just as scared of you as you are of it."

Hermione frowned. "But it's just a broom. I don't see the importance of making the class mandatory."

"Of course you don't," Cygnus shot back. "But there are some individuals who actually enjoy the damn sport. You have to start somewhere."

"You started at home, just like the majority of those that actually like flying," she pointed out. "So like I said, the class should be a recreational option just as participating in Quidditch is."

Tom smiled behind his cup of orange juice, setting it down at looking at her in amusement. "Sweet sister, there is no getting out of flying lessons. Do the bare minimum and you will be fine. You have been on a broom before."

She gave him a look. "With you. Or Cygnus. Never by myself."

"Well there is a first for everything," Cygnus spoke. "We aren't saying you have to be the bloody best flyer in history, but you have to actually look confident in what you are doing."

"You have the class with Potter," Tom reminded her. "You can't show him- or anyone for that matter- that flying is essentially your weakness." He looked at her with a gentle expression. "Our cousin is right. When you go out there, you must pretend that you know what you are doing. Don't let anyone see that you fear it."

"You can't have people thinking they have an edge on you," Cygnus carried on. "No one, not even your housemates or… friends. Do the lesson, properly, and you'll be done."

Tom nodded, his eyes gliding from Cygnus to her. "It'll be over before you even know it."

She nodded in understanding. They had given her her orders and now she needed to comply.

Hermione finished off her cup of water just as a barn owl flew into the hall. She watched its movements with awe, admiring how smoothly the animal glided in the air. She watched it make its journey until it dropped in front of Longbottom and she watched how a happy smile drifted onto the boy's face as he dug into the gift the owl delivered. She tried to envision her Aunt's smile, if it was wide and bright or barely there, but she couldn't. She couldn't remember it and it was because of that boy and his family.

Hermione let her eyes linger on his expression, deciding that she didn't like it. He didn't deserve it.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

At precisely three-thirty, Hermione found herself staring blankly down at the broom resting beside her feet. She had to fight the grimace that threatened to break across her features when she realized the utter state they were in. She had thought that flying on either Tom's or Cygnus' broomsticks had been bad enough but these… there was no way she could get on these. Not when most of them had bristles sticking out at odd angles and wood that threatened to snap at any second under any amount of weight slightly applied. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs and she had to clench her hands shut to hide the trembling.

When Hooch started barking orders, Hermione swore she felt her stomach plummet to the ground. She forced herself not to pay attention to her housemates or the Gryffindors and hardly considered how relatively easy it was because her life was literally at stake here.

As Hooch began to walk up and down the stip of empty space that separates the two houses, Hermione made sure she listened with rapt attention to every word the gray woman spoke. "Now when I blow my whistle, kick off the ground. Keep your broom steady."

She didn't want to do this. Her knuckles were glowing white as she clutched onto the broom.

"Ready!"

No. No, she wasn't ready. Hermione swore she was seconds away from exploding on the spot. Anything would be better than-

"Three- Two-"

Suddenly, there was a startled cry that rang out and every head on the training grounds shot up to watch as Longbottom rose higher and higher off of the ground. Hermione couldn't control staring in horror when he was well over everyone's heads and his scared, pale face looked at the ground with eyes that threatened to bulge from his skull.

She would be lying if she didn't actually feel sorry for him in that moment, but the feeling was buried deep, deep, deep down.

With every passing second, all of the students watched helplessly as the buck-toothed Gryffindor rose higher and higher each second. Madam Hooch was yelling instructions at him but Hermione knew they were useless as Longbottom stared death in the face. Therefore, it was no surprise that a mere heartbeat later he slipped from the broom and fell towards the ground in a heap of black robes, and landing with a loud crack.

Without a second thought, Hermione threw the broom in her hand down. The Gryffindors and Madam Hooch rushed forward while the Slytherins drew back. It was obvious that Longbottom had a broken wrist and needed to be taken to the hospital wing. In Hooch's haste to get the Gryffindor his needed help, she simply yelled at them from over her shoulder to stay put.

Hermione internally groaned. She had been silently wishing- pleading- that class would be dismissed but of course it was expected of her to stay. As if she weren't already miserable.

As soon as their instructor was out of earshot, Hermione made her way to stand closely beside Blaise as Vince and Greg began to laugh; boisterous and loud enough to where the other Slytherins had no problem joining in. She and Blaise shared a look, silently sharing their disbelief at what had happened, and watched as their housemates joked around.

"Did you see his face?" Vince bellowed, his face red with laughter. "The great lump was crying!"

Greg was having difficulty breathing as he clutched at his sides. "I almost expected him to call out for his mummy!" he shouted.

Hermione tensed as few pairs of eyes turned towards her; some with happiness and others with fear. She stayed rooted underneath their judgement, making sure her head was held high and that they all knew she didn't care about their opinions.

But… but those few Gryffindors had looked at her with shiny eyes and deep frowns and it was an expression she had familiarity with; ones that mirrored the house elf's when Cygnus or Tom or her father clutched their wands in their hands with a curse hot on their tongue.

With a harsh jolt, Hermione realized that she had never been on the end of that look before, that those Gryffindors that had glanced in her direction weren't afraid of what had happened to Longbottom or his family, instead, they were afraid of her. They looked at her as if she were the reason Longbottom had no parents.

It stung. For reasons she couldn't begin to describe, it stung badly.

Didn't they know she had lost her aunt and uncle as well? That unlike Longbottom, who could physically go and see his parents at whatever nuthouse they were tucked away in, her aunt was locked away from them and left to rot in a prison. They were all so quick to judge when yet-

Hermione's feet walked forward to join Vince and Greg against the small huddle of confrontation that was beginning to form. Blaise followed close behind and soon, the two of them were just as involved as the others, front and center.

"At least he didn't fall on his head," she teased with her housemates, "Merlin forbid he get any more dense than he already is. A troll makes him look bright."

"Shut up, Granger! How can you be so cruel?!" one of the Gryffindors named Parvati snapped.

Pansy made her way next to Hermione and crossed her arms across her chest. "Does someone have a crush on the fat little crybaby, Pavarti?"

Pavarti bristled at the comment but didn't back down. Just as she was ready to spit fire, Potter pushed his way through. Hermione rolled her eyes at his actions because of course he just has to take a stand when he had no business too. She was beginning to wonder if he had a strange form of narcissism after growing up deprived of attention but she didn't finish her train of thought as a flash caught her eye. Clutched in Potter's hand was the gift he had received at lunch. The oaf must have dropped it when he had fallen from the sky. Before she could stop her impulse, she reached forward and snatched the object from Potter's hand.

A noise of exasperation escaped from Potter's throat as he lunged after her but she had already slid behind Vince and Greg, inspecting the gift for herself as the two in front of her crossed their arms over their chests and glared.

"Give that here, Granger!" Potter yelled.

Hermione feigned innocence as she glanced back in his direction. She held the glass ball up in her hand and smiled, "This?" It was nothing fancy nor important enough that Longbottom would demanding it back. Every story across the Wizarding World had them and really, Hermione had always thought Remembralls were quite useless. Even if it told you you had forgot something, it didn't tell you what it was you had exactly forgotten.

Potter held out his hand, "Now, Granger."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Just who did he think he was? Hermione leveled him with a blank stare and dropped the ball back to her side, answering with a clipped drawl, "No, Potter."

She watched as Potter squared his shoulders, huffed, and tried to reach between the minute space between Vince and Greg. It was an unsuccessful attempt on his part and on impulse, Vince shoved Potter back as the scarhead got too close. Potter stumbled a few paces and with the new space between them, Hermione handed the glass ball to Greg and nodded towards the sky. Greg smiled viciously in return and on que, chunked the object as hard as he could into the air.

The ball glinted as it flew and many of the students, both in red and in green, watched.

"Hope it doesn't break. Potter," Hermione sneered at him, not paying him any attention as she admired how far and fast the ball flew. But the moment was short lived when suddenly Potter hopped onto the nearest broom and kicked off the ground with one good push. Her lips parted in shock when he took to the sky, not believing that he would be stupid enough to disobey Madam Hooch, let alone fly without supervision. She was surprised that none of his housemates had tried-

"Harry!" Draco shouted after him.

Hermione's head snapped in the direction of his voice but found that he was closer to her than she had realized. From where he stood it was apparent that he had been close to where Potter had been standing, which wasn't much of a surprise anymore. She wasn't clueless to who Draco had become… close with, even though Potter and Weasley were the last two she knew would ever suit Draco. She wouldn't act like she knew Draco better than anyone else but she wasn't blind. Hermione had seen their times at dinner, when Weasley would shove food in his mouth and talk in the process, watching as Potter would have no problem yet Draco would have the slightest look of disgust that he failed miserably at hiding. Or when she had observed them in class or steady sessions in the Great Hall and watched as Draco did all of the work, trying his best to help Potter while Weasley put in no effort and simply copied word for word. Hermione didn't know how Draco dealt with them. She had never seen a more juxtaposed group of friends.

With Draco's mercurial gaze glued onto Harry's form, she couldn't help but frown as the concern oozed from him in waves that threatened to drown them all. She wasn't used to seeing so much emotion on one's face but everytime she so much as glanced in the blonde's direction, his face was an open book and she found herself caught in wanting to go and wipe it all away or stare and memorize the features of his face with each emotion he had.

It was an exhausting process and everytime she caught herself staring for just a bit too long, she swore that she would stop. But then seconds later, her attention would betray her and somehow she was looking at him again. An endless and cruel loop that she kept telling herself would end sooner rather than later.

Or, at least she hoped.

Hermione had become so distracted by watching Draco that she had failed to notice that Potter ended up catching the Remembrall and now had his feet planted safely on the grass. She hadn't even noticed that Professor McGonagall was now standing on the field until Vince and Greg were pulling her back.

"HARRY POTTER!" the old woman shouted. It was the loudest Hermione had ever heard the good professor get. Most of the students didn't dare talk but-

Draco was the first to jump to Potter's defense, lurching forward to stand in front of the professor beside his friend. "It wasn't his fault, Professor. It was-" Draco started explaining, his eyes wide and panicked. Hermione expected him to start pointing fingers and spewing her name forth but Draco's voice died off before he went any further.

Weasley on the other hand, had no problem throwing the blame onto her. "-It was all Granger's fault!"

Her gaze flickered to the freckled ginger but snapped back to Professor McGonagall when the woman began to speak again, "That's enough, Mr. Weasley" she seathed. Then, her sharp gaze zeroed on Potter, "Follow me. Now, Mr. Potter."

This time, none of them spoke. The Gryffindors watched in gloom as their star housemate was hauled away; the Slytherins all grinned.

Unlike before, when Professor McGonagall and Potter disappeared, it was Hermione that broke the silence first. "Hopefully he gets expelled," she said, loudly. Her housemates all sniggered.

"I'd rather see the Weasel go," Greg mused beside her, matching her tone. "Imagine how much cleaner this school would be if none of us had to see such a disgrace walk in the halls." For an added effect, Greg sneered at the redhead, eyeing the worn out clothing that hung from Weasley's frame.

Weasley turned a delicious shade of bright red that covered him from the tip of his ears to the ends of his freckled fingers. He had his fists clenched tightly and appeared to be trying to calm himself down. Draco was whispering urgently into his ear, and to Hermione's amazement, Weasley seemed to be listening to him.

Hm, now that was new.

She held her head high and when Weasley threw a dark glare in her direction, she smiled as sweetly as she could. Before either of them could throw insults with the poison lacing their tongues, Draco pulled the redhead's shoulders and pushed him towards the entrance of the castle.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next morning Hermione was nestled between her brother and Blaise, listening to Cygnus boast about his quidditch training session while she meticulously spread an even layer of jam on her toast. He was already quite… confident that he would be making the team and to her surprise, he had informed both she and Tom that their father had already made the decision to purchase the entire team brand new brooms. She had stayed silent at that, pretending to be too busy eating her toast as Tom expressed his relief that he now had a real reason to attend the quidditch matches. For Hermione, even if she knew every single member of both teams, she would still pass having to sit there and watch them fly by and would very much rather find a nice quiet spot and bury herself into a book, or perhaps a potions lesson with her Godfather. Anything but quidditch.

But it wasn't as if she would dare say that to either Tom or Cygnus. Besides, she was, truly proud of her cousin and wouldn't deny that the first match would be interesting, seeing him decked out in the signature Slytherin gear.

The morning was slipping by effortlessly, filled with soft chatter and content, but it all came crashing down around her when the post was delivered, owls flooding into the Great Hall with a fluff of feathers and squaks. Hermione easily spotted their family eagle owl, Avadis, swoop through the air with the large package clutched in his taloned claws. She beamed in excitement knowing it was packed to the brim with their weekly goodies and as soon as Avadis landed, the three of them tore into it with haste. It was the usual; three velvet black pouches that were stuffed with galleons and various treats to last them through the week. It was routine by now that Cygnus would pocket his pouch and leave the two others for Tom to take. Hermione never liked carrying money and it wasn't as if she ever needed any of it, so she always let one of them take it for her instead. She would bypass the pouches completely and go straight for the letters.

However, before she could get half way through, her skin prickled in discomfort and when she noticed how eerily quiet it had gotten around her, she picked up her head, her questioning gaze going straight for her brother. Tom's brows were drawn together and furrowed as he looked across the hall. When she followed his line of sight, her head cocked to the side as she realized what it was she was looking at.

Every single student in the hall had their curious stares pointed toward the Gryffindor table, watching Potter and those around him unwrap the gift with quick fingers.

It didn't take a genius to know what was inside the packaging.

As if a switch was flipped, Cygnus became enraged. His fists clenched on the tabletop before he whipped his head back around towards them. Hermione had nearly jumped at how fast he had moved. "Why the fuck does Potter have a broom!?"

The fierceness of his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

She darted a glance back towards her brother and watched the two of them share a fire brewing between their gazes. Tom's jaw was clenched tight as he had no answer for their cousin.

Tom's silence, however, only infuriated their cousin even more and with a growl, he shot up from his seat and marched straight for the doors. Those students that happened to be standing practically dove out of the way when he stormed past them. Hermione could only watch in silence as he disappeared.

She looked back towards Potter and was overwhelmed with a sudden amount of hatred that filled her to the brim. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Potter could break the rules and then get rewarded with a bloody broom; wasn't fair that he could enter Hogwarts with as much talent as that of her pinky and suddenly become every professor's favorite. Then again, if Potter was so set on playing quidditch, by all means, she wanted him to. Let the blasted scarhead go out there and think he was good, let him go out there so Cygnus and the others could accidentally send a bludger to his head and make him equivalent to that of a vegetable. She could only hope for such an outcome.

Her thoughts were put aside when Tom began to stand up and not knowing what else to do, she began to follow his lead. But then, his hand was pushing her back down and she stared up at him questioningly.

"Stay here," he instructed her. He wasn't giving her an option, his demand clear to his ears. Tom inclined his head towards Theo then silently jutted his chin towards the door. Theo got up without a word.

Tom didn't spare her a second glance before he and Theo were striding after Cygnus.

Silence washed over their table like a thick blanket of fog and it was uncomfortable by all means. She kept her head down but she could feel the others staring at her; Vince, Greg, Blaise, and the ever nosy Pansy Parkinson. Hermione picked apart the muffin on her plate instead of meeting them head on.

It was Pansy that was bold enough to break the silence, "Soo…" she drawled out. "What position do you think Potter will make since he's obviously on the team now?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance, "I don't bloody care."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

When the doors of the Great Hall closed behind Granger and Nott, the three of them turned their heads together at once to face each other.

Ron was grinning from ear to ear like a fool, his mouth stretching wide, "Just imagine the looks on their faces whenever they see you actually playing," Ron gushed out.

Harry nodded in agreement. He looked over Ron's shoulder towards the Slytherin table and Draco was quick to do the same. With the three older boys gone, Draco couldn't help but note how Hermione looked awfully… lonely. She seemed small not having their shadows towering over her and every part of Draco wished he could just go and sit right there next to her and not have the slightest care in the world.

"I should probably go and thank her," Harry sarcastically proclaimed, his green eyes full of mirth as nodded in Hermione's direction. "Because, really, if it wasn't for her then I would have never gotten on that broom."

Draco hummed in response, trying to be humorous about the whole situation but it lacked its true effect. "I think she would quite like that."


	4. First Year (Part 2)

Chapter 4:

Somehow, time passed by. 

Quite quickly, Hermione would admit. The air around them had began to chill with the faint warnings of winter’s approach but it was still pleasant enough to wander around the courtyards without a jumper if the sun was high enough. 

It was perfect to sit outside and read, which she  _ would  _ be doing if she were back home, but at  _ school  _ she was nestled firmly between Tom and Blaise, with Vince and Greg at her back. She was boxed in and had no other choice than to turn her head to the left, then the right, watching as the players in maroon and green rushed back and forth ahead of her as they practiced before their match began. To put it lightly, she was bored _ out of her mind _ . 

“I wonder if Father is already here,” Tom leaned towards her, but his gaze was searching steadily into the Governor’s box. 

She hummed absentmindedly in agreement because why wouldn’t he be here? Ever since Cygnus had joined the team, he hadn’t missed any matches. So of course he was here. 

Hermione didn’t get to linger on the thoughts of her father when suddenly Hooch was striding onto the field. It took every fiber of her being to not jump from her spot and shout “Finally!” because the faster this match started, the faster she could go back  _ inside _ . It wasn’t that she hated being outdoors, it was just the sheer amount of people that were shouting and packed together so closely that she felt her lungs spasm uncomfortably. It was all too--

_ Wild _ . 

That’s what she always thought when she watched the players zoom into the air after Hooch blew her whistle. It looked like a storm of green and maroon, their robes billowing quickly in the breeze as they zipped and zoomed like gnats gone haywire. She often marveled how they did it, how their eyes could function so quickly and their reactions be so lightning-quick that they made it look  _ effortless _ . She knew without a doubt that if  _ she  _ were up there, she would be motionless and white knuckled as she gripped for dear life and wouldn’t pay mind to the others as long as she stayed afloat and untouched. 

Because  _ that  _ was what terrified her. Sure flying wasn’t her strong suit and yes she may despise it, but the thought of getting touched and  _ hurt  _ made her swear to herself that she would never, ever do something as daft and daring as quidditch. 

So it was only natural that it happened to be  _ her  _ cousin that was the most dangerous of them all. She would watch on pins and needles as Cygnus flew in the air, many times reaching up to shield her eyes when he would get close to the other players. He played dirty, narrowly bending around the rules to where he wasn’t actually breaking them, but making sure he could inflict the most damage and making it look like an accident. She applauded his ability but… still. Hermione cringed each time a Gryffindor took a hit or spun out of control or somehow ‘slipped’ off their brooms and crashed down onto the solid surface below. 

She never let her eyes leave Cygnus. The match went by faster when she only concentrated on him, watching his fierce determination never leave his focus. It was an added bonus that the match was close--  _ too  _ close for comfort as the Slytherins practically vibrated with anticipation and the cheers got louder and louder with each goal scored-- but at least it left her on edge with the game not clear on the victor and that too made time seem to go by quicker. 

It was when she heard the frantic voice of Lee Jordan boom throughout the pitch that she realized Potter had caught of the snitch and dipped his broom forward in pursuit. Terence Higgs wasn’t too far behind and soon both of them were neck and neck as they chased after the snitch. The volume of the crowd made the stands shake and Hermione’s hands clenched together as they inched closer and closer, both hands outstretched and--

WHAM! 

Cygnus slammed into Potter with a force that made the crowd take a collective intake of breath in shock as every set of eyes watched the Gryffindor spin out of control. Her housemates jumped from their seats, fists raised into the air and cheered louder than anything Hermione had ever heard before. The roar was deafening yet didn’t manage to dull the cries of outrage as the Gryffindors sprung to life. Students were booing, some screaming ‘foul!’ but Madam Hooch shook her head otherwise. Hermione wouldn’t begin to question the rules but she was certain that Cygnus should have been fouled in one way or another. 

“Damn,” Blaise muttered. “He’s going to be feeling that for a couple of weeks.”  

“More like months,” she responded, her eyes still watching the game. 

Then, there was another disruption within the crowd and everyone’s eyes were back on Potter as his broom gave a frightening lurch. It happened again, and again, with Potter flailing back and forth like parchment caught in the wind. 

She couldn’t think of a more worse way to die. As much as she never believed she would ever pity Potter, she did in that very moment. 

* * *

Harry was going to die. 

Draco could only watch in horror as his best friend lurched forward and back. Something was  _ wrong,  _ so terribly wrong, but the murmurs of a rogue broom were all the Gryffindors were shouting about. 

A rogue broom? Of all the chances for Harry to be stuck on a rogue broom, especially since the thing was brand new, it just logically didn’t make sense. Harry of all people? On his first match? 

Draco frantically turned toward Hagrid. “It can’t be the broom!” he said, feverently when Harry suddenly flung off but managed to catch himself at the last minute and held on with one hand. “Maybe Lestrange did something when he crashed into him?!” 

“No, no,” Hagrid shook his head. His eyes were wide and his face was scrunched in terror as he watched Harry. “Couldn’ have been Lestrange. Nothin’ interferes with a broomstick except Dark magic-- no kid could do that,” Hagrid spoke with a shaky voice. 

“Even if that  _ kid  _ was a child of two of the most ruthless Death Eaters?” Ron darkly shot back. 

Hagrid spared him a glance but stayed silent against the retort. Draco, however, couldn’t help but think that Cygnus Lestrange wouldn’t dare jinx Harry’s broom, not in a stadium full of professors and adults, and he wouldn’t jeopardize getting kicked from the team for one stupid match. He may not actually know the guy but word got around and it was rumored he wasn’t  _ dumb _ . So it only left--

Draco grabbed for Hagrid’s binoculars and instead of looking towards his friend flapping in the air, he began to frantically search the crowd. He swept through the Slytherin’s, bypassing Hermione and her brother, and the rest of the students with a rush but when he began to scour the upper stands where the higher ups sat. He skimmed over Dumbledore and McGonagall, the rest of the professors, and when he saw a flash of white-blonde hair he faltered. There was Mr. Granger downed in impressive garments, surrounded by the other school governors, and watching the scene before him with a grin of amusement. Draco moved his line of sight to Mr. Granger’s left and as he realized what he was seeing, he pulled away with a gasp. 

“I knew it.”  

* * *

 

“And Higgs catches the Snitch… Slytherins win.” 

Hermione didn’t understand how the professors still let Lee Jordan manage the mic when it was so obvious by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t as unbiased as he was supposed to be. Honestly, would it kill him if he put an ounce of effort into sounding  _ happy  _ for their house? A proper congratulations was in order. It was a tough game for both teams. 

She would admit that the sad looking faces of the Gryffindors almost made up for it when they began to walk back to the castle. 

“I’ve never seen a broom act like that,” she spoke, turning her head towards Tom so that she could watch him. “Have you?” 

Tom’s mouth twitched, “I guess there’s a first time for everything then.”

She turned away from him to look ahead. 

“Seems awfully coincidental,” she lowered her voice. “Potter’s first game and his broom goes crazy right when he’s about to catch the snitch.” 

“We would have still won Hermione.” 

“That’s not the point.” 

Tom’s footsteps came to a halt and he reached out to clasp a hand around her wrist, stopping her as well. He tilted his head to the side and smiled, “Then what  _ is  _ the point?”

“The point is that whoever did it, had spot on timing.” With that she tucked herself into her brother’s side and made them continue forward. When he pressed a kiss into her hair, she could feel his grin. 

* * *

Quidditch matches took place every two weeks and it was to her utter relief that her and Tom only attended the ones where Slytherins were partaking in. The team was fairly successful and apart from a match against Ravenclaw, they kept winning. On the other end of the spectrum, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were battling for the spot in second. And well, Hufflepuff… well. 

Mid-December was on them before Hermione even knew it. One night she went to sleep with clear skies and faint sun rays and the next morning, there was a thick blanket of snow that covered everything in sight. Winter was a beautiful thing, not necessarily her favorite season but it was breathtaking nonetheless. The only hindsight was that Hogwarts wasn’t the most successful at keeping the bitter wind at bay, no matter how many charms were set in place. There was always a draft that wasn’t due to the ghosts that roamed.  And to her luck, her two favorite places, the common room and her godfather’s classroom, where she was at at that very moment-- always had the chill that seemed to soak through her bones. 

Potion’s was her favorite, there was no other choice, really. When she had been born and raised by the Godfather of Potions himself, it was nearly impossible to have any say otherwise. Even if she had to share the class with the ever insufferable Gryffindors. 

Although, in actuality, it was her own classmates that sometimes wanted her to bang her head against the desk. Especially Parkinson. 

_ Only  _ Parkinson. 

“I do feel sorry for all of those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays because they aren’t wanted at home,” Hermione gave Blaise a look when Parkinson’s voice rang out. The pugged-face girl was sneering at Potter as she spoke and it only managed to scrunch her face more appealing than it already was. “Imagine not having parents that can love you!” she cackled. Behind Hermione, Vince and Greg bursted into laughter. 

Potter didn’t bother to acknowledge any of them and continued to chop the lionfish spine in front of him, his jaw clenching in agitation. Longbottom started to tremble as he fought the tears that threatened to spill. 

Hermione had to swallow thickly and forced her attention to stay on Blaise. 

She ignored the glares the Gryffindors sent their way. What she needed was a break. She was counting the days she could get away from it all and just go  _ home _ , finally letting her walls come down that she had spend so much time and energy keeping up. 

She could only keep living day by day for so long. 

“I guess that’s the criteria to be placed into Gryffindor,” Parkinson continued. “You are either dirt poor, an orphan, or come from a  _ unfortunate  _ background.” When Parkinson’s narrowed gaze flittered towards Potter and-- 

Hermione clenched her jaw when she caught sight of Draco as he dipped his head down into his work, obviously having heard Parkinson’s dig. The whole bloody class had heard, it was hard not to. 

But still… the sight made Hermione’s insides feel… wrong. Her stomach churned in embarrassment, not in Draco’s behalf but in her own; ashamed that her housemate could say things so cruel and unnecessary. Everyone knew Draco was a Muggleborn just as everyone knew Weasley was incredibly poor and just as everyone in the wizarding world knew Potter’s parents were dead. There was no need for  _ any  _ of it and hearing Parkinson and the rest of her housemates giggle in amusement had Hermione bowing her own head and forcing on her own work. 

She had to clench her fingers around her quill in order to resist the urge to snatch up her wand and hex Parkinson into tomorrow. Beside her, Blaise exhaled heavily through his nose. 

It felt like a blessing when they were allowed to leave. Double potions was always long and extraneous and it never failed that she left with a headache more times than not. All she wanted was to go to lunch, forget about everything, and--

The cry of freedom was on the tip of her tongue as she parted through the heavy oak door but the very moment she entered the hall, her shoulders slumped in defeat. If she didn’t know any better, she would have been sure that Parkinson had developed a horrid crush on Potter but she did know better and she knew for a fact that Parkinson valued her family’s wealth more than she ever would for someone like him. Still, it didn’t explain why the girl had to go out of her way at every chance she had to make Potter’s life miserable. It was nearly Christmas for Salazar’s sake. 

Parkinson was still spewing her strings of insults that had very much gotten past their desired effect and honestly, Potter was looking quite bored. Everyone watching looked like they were attending Professor Binns lesson instead of seeing the possibility of a fight unfold. 

“Honestly, why does she even try?” Hermione shook her head. 

Blaise shrugged, “Maybe she’s trying to impress.” 

She scrunched her brows in confusion as she turned to her friend, “Impress who?”

“Our housemates? The rest of the school?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but turned back to watch Parkinson closely. “The rest of the school worships the very ground Potter walks upon.” 

“Then she wants the Slytherin’s to respect her,” Blaise suggested. “She’s not like you.” 

Hermione glanced at her friend with her brows raised. “And what is that supposed to mean?” 

The handsome boy to her left smirked, his hazel eyes glittering in the low light of the hall. “It means that she isn’t on the same level as you, Hermione. Honestly, everyone here knows you, not only because of Tom and Cygnus but also because of your father. I had never even heard of the Parkinson’s before I got here.” 

“Because you’re from  _ Italy _ .” 

Blaise chuckled at that. “ _ True,”  _ he grinned. “But I knew about your father, therefore, I knew of the Grangers, which  _ you  _ happen to be. Heck, maybe she’s trying to impress you.”  

“I don’t talk to her,” Hermione pointed out. “I don’t even  _ like  _ her.” 

“Exactly.” 

She huffed in exasperation and took a step towards the crowd that began to clutter around. Blaise, however, reached out and caught her arm in warning. “We are supposed to go to lunch,” he reminded her. “Not get involved in others affairs.” 

“I’ll make it fast then,” she responded before tugging her arm free and continuing forward. She heard Blaise sigh but knew he was following close. 

It was easy to push past the handful of students that were crowded around Parkinson and Potter, the vibrant contrast of red and green clashing against each other as if in preparation for war. She continued to push until she was standing right beside Parkinson, eyeing her carefully as the girl’s face scrunched up with the insults she threw. 

When the girl brought up Potter’s dead parents again, Hermione couldn’t  _ help  _ but jump in. 

“Again Parkinson?” she asked. The effect was instantaneous; Parkinson’s head shot to the side, mouth dropping in astonishment; Potter’s eyes widening as he realized her words weren’t directed towards him; Greg and Vince were glancing hesitantly between the two. 

“Don’t you think you can come up with something a  _ bit  _ more clever?” Hermione gave her a look of disdain. “We’re all getting tired of hearing the same thing, Parkinson.” 

The pug-faced girl spluttered in indignation, her mouth opening and closing in a truly unpleasant manner.  “Well I don’t see  _ you  _ doing anything.” 

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and said, “Because they aren’t worth my time. Clearly the same can’t be said for you.” 

Parkinson’s face twisted into something sour and Hermione half expected a snarl to leak from her mouth. But her housemate only straightened up and mimicked her pose. “You act like you have never said a word to any of them. In fact, weren’t  _ you  _ the one who made Potter make the quidditch team because  _ you  _ just had to make their business  _ your  _ business?”

_ What _ ? Hermione stared at the girl as if she had gone crazy. Although, really, the possibility wasn’t that far fetched. It completely plausible. 

“Yeah, it was you,” Parkinson sneered. “Always getting into things that do not concern you, just as you are now.” 

Greg stepped forward, shaking his head as embers began to spark in his eyes but Hermione pushed her hand out to stop him from advancing, relishing as Parkinson’s eyes widened. 

Hermione’s gaze narrowed playfully and she smiled, pitying the girl before her. “Instead of being concerned about people like  _ Potter-- _ ” she let her attention drift over Parkinson’s shoulder and focus on the small huddle of Gryffindors before snapping back, “-- perhaps you should be more concerned about yourself. You never know what could happen.” 

Parkinson’s eyes roamed against the crowd that somehow moved to circle her now, her position not Gryffindor but not entirely Slytherin anymore. 

Lines had been drawn with a thick warning but Parkinson had crossed them with an ease of foolishness. 

Hermione tilted her head in mock sympathy and shrugged. “Just giving a word of advice,” she spoke, putting an innocent tilt to her words. But then, like a switch, she dropped her act and pinned Parkinson with a wordless glare. She unfolded her arms and moved away, getting a glimpse of the astonished Gryffindor trio as they watched her. She nearly erupted into laughter at the sight of them, her mind rushing with the thoughts that must be running through their heads. However, she wouldn’t dare do such a thing in front of them and instead shot Potter a forced sneer as she turned and absolutely  _ refused  _ to let her gaze shift to his right. 

The crowd of students parted like enchanted water to let her through and she pushed her legs forward with eagerness as she felt the bubbles within her chest rising higher and higher and-- Hermione flung herself around the corner and could no longer contain the giggles that began to climb up her throat.  

And when they came forward, she lost it. 

Hermione clutched a hand to her mouth as a stream of uncontrolled laughter began to spill out. It was so hard that tears began to blur her vision and she had to use her other hand to grip her ribs as Blaise doubled over beside her, his own laughter mingling with her own in the silent corridor.  

“Do you-- think that will-- calm her down abit?” she managed to get out, struggling to breath, talk, and laugh at the same time.  

Blaise grinned. “Are you kidding? Did you see her face? She looked seconds away from fainting right there on the spot. I think we will have at least the next year Parkinson-free.” 

Hermione took a deep breath, managing to contain her outburst despite the rattle that still lingered in her chest and the faint giggle that would leave every few seconds. She tilted her head back and wiped at her cheeks, making herself presentable once more before straightening up and sharing a smile with her friend. “So worth it,” she whispered, meaning every word of it.

* * *

 

“I hate all of them,” Ron sulked. 

Draco had one ear trained on the redhead but hardly paid him any attention as his eyes raked over the bookshelves. That was one thing that had him mystified once he started Hogwarts, the nearly overwhelming amount of books that seemed to tower all throughout the library, in all shapes and sizes and dealing with topics that had Draco squirming in anticipation to read. There was just  _ so  _ many and in times like this, when he  _ needed  _ their help, the books were nothing more than a jarring intimidation. 

They needed all the help they could get but when Ron absolutely refused to so much as  _ touch  _ a book, and instead choose to lounge carelessly in a chair, it made Draco’s frustrations threaten to be unleashed and just happen to all be directed towards said redhead. 

It wasn’t like Draco had dragged Harry and Ron into the library by their ears. It wasn’t like Draco was doing this for his own benefit, when in fact it was for the safety and protection for the entire bloody school. 

Harry hummed in agreement but was still busy scouring the shelves a few feet from Draco. At least Harry had the sense that what they were doing was something important. The school was in danger, there was no debating it. The three of them understood that. Without a doubt. Draco had seen Snape with his own eyes curse Harry off of his broom, the incantations spilling from his lips with a dangerous poison that nearly cost Harry his life. They had all seen Snape wounded the night of the troll invasion within the school, all saw the blood that had trickled down his leg from the large split of his leg. They had seen Fluffy for Godric’s sake and there was no mistaking that the dog was the culprit to that scratch. But most importantly, they had seen the door that Fluffy was guarding. They all knew that whatever had been in vault 713 was now beneath the three-headed dog, and they knew Snape was after it. Hagrid had been no help when they approached him and had only let slip the name Nicolas Flamel when he had began his anxious rambling. So with nothing more to go off of, Nicolas Flamel became their obsession. Their only key in this twisted puzzle. 

“Why do we even care about all this?” Ron groaned. “If Hagrid didn’t care, then what could we possibly do that he can’t? He could tell Dumbledore.” 

“We’ve been over this already,” Draco snapped. His patience was long gone and he had to fight the urge to chunk the heavy tome in his hands at the blasted boy. “Dumbledore and Hagrid trust Snape. He’s a professor and it is his word against ours.” 

“But--” 

Harry spun around and silenced Ron with a piercing look, his emerald greens burning like a wicked curse. He closed the space between him and Ron and thrust his hand out, pushing a book into Ron’s freckled hands. 

“If you help us, we can be done faster,” Harry spoke, not waiting for Ron to answer as he turned back towards the shelves and plucked the next book from his stack. 

Draco’s eyes kept skimming the pages but when he heard Ron sigh and the subtle creak of the redhead opening the leather cover, he grinned. 

_ About time _ . 

* * *

Another two weeks went down the drain with no success. Draco was beginning to think that Nicolas Flamel was just some wizard that Hagrid knew, but then again, it wasn’t as if he had much more to go off of. So naturally, he kept at it, even if he was the only one.

He would be leaving for home tomorrow morning to celebrate the Holidays with his parents. Both Ron and Harry were to stay at the castle and they had said that they would kept searching for any information about Flamel, but Draco didn’t listen to a word either of them said nor would he hold them to it. He was still in the school and the two of his friends had chosen to play Wizarding Chess instead of join him even when he had insisted numerous times. Even he was starting to get annoyed listening to his own voice so, he left them. He wasn’t going to waste time when it was quickly disappearing by the hour and then be weeks until he would be back at Hogwarts. 

Thankfully Madam Pince never told him anything. Surprisingly, it appeared that she even trusted him as the older woman would leave him at random spurts of time when the library rang in silence. It had occurred more than once that she would allow him to stay in past curfew, disappearing to her bed chambers and leaving a signed hall pass that would let him bypass trouble from either the Prefects or Heads on their routine monitoring. He still had a few hours until curfew would hit but there wasn’t a soul in the library, leaving him blinking tiredly at the pages before him. 

Minutes passed and he closed yet another book with no luck. He had lost track of how many tomes he had shuffled through, lost track of the thousands upon thousands of words that he had skimmed, even ignoring the discomfort of his body as it begged to give up and just go rest. The temptation was strong and Ron’s words from weeks prior kept ringing in his ears. Because, in a sense, the redhead was right. If Dumbledore and Hagrid trusted Professor Snape, then who was he to question their judgement? 

He could abandon the search, could leave behind his efforts and only look forward to going home for the holiday’s. It would be easy to forget about it all. But… But if there was a  _ chance  _ that they were right, then it was a chance that Draco didn’t want to take because how could he ignore the risk against everyone within the school? That’s why it made no sense why neither Harry or Ron cared as much to bypass a stupid chess game. It made Draco want to pull his hair out in frustration and--

Draco’s spine straightened when he heard the sounds of steps lightly tapping against the floor of the library. He could hear them approaching towards his side of the library, getting closer, but then the steps shifted to the right and the sounds started to lessen. Draco turned his head, his brow furrowed in concentration, because to the right of where he was was only one area. The Restricted Section was a place that was rare to get into because you had to have a selected pass from one of the professors and Draco, well, Draco had never gotten anywhere close. 

His curiosity overtook him and he found himself rising to his feet, slowly and quietly creeping around the corner. He kept his attention sharp, darting a glance towards Madam Pince’s empty desk, before inching his way towards the metallic gate that shielded the Restricted Section from the student body. Draco peered into the darkness and could see the faint light that shone from within. It looked drowned within the shadows but it was there nonetheless and it told Draco that someone was  _ in  _ there. 

He lingered near the bookshelves and waited. His grey eyes tracked the light as it moved down the Restricted Section and paused for several long moments, until it turned back around and got closer to the entrance. Draco held his breath and pressed himself into the shadows, watching closely as the gate was suddenly being pushed open. When he caught sight of the person, his mouth dropped open in disbelief.

Because there she was. 

With her wand clutched tightly in hand and a heavy book underneath her arm, she turned to make sure the gate was secure. He almost couldn’t believe his own eyes. Of all the people, it had to be her. Of all the students to have access, it had to be her. 

Draco took a deep breath and jumped from the shadows, rushing up to her without thinking of anything or anyone else. 

At the sudden noise, Hermione’s head shot up and she barely had the time to bring her wand up and ready until he was stopping right in front of her, his hands raised in submission. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as she took him in, her mouth parting. “Dr--” her voice began but died just as fast and she abruptly turned her head from side to side. 

He knew she was looking for other students, the possibility of wandering eyes and tongues ready to spew their gossip. It hurt, but he was starting to get used to it. 

It was only once she saw with her own eyes that the coast was clear that she slowly began to drop her wand. She held her chin high and her eyes were set and-- and she didn’t look like the Hermione he knew. The girl before him was the one that roamed the halls of Hogwarts, sitting beside her brother and cousin and the rest of the Slytherins, the one that sneered at them and said cruel things. It wasn’t the Hermione he had seen that day in Diagon. The girl wasn’t his friend. 

“Yes?” she asked, her tone clipped and short. She wasn’t looking directly at him, looking past his shoulders and refusing to make eye contact. He noticed that her grip was tight around the book in her hand but the fingers holding her wand were loose. 

For a moment he didn’t know what to say. There was  _ too  _ much to say yet no reason to say any of it. 

_ The girl was not his friend.  _

“How did you get access?” he asked. It was by far the  _ least  _ question he actually wanted to ask her but at least he would have an excuse. 

Hermione’s brows scrunched, “What are you talking about?” She looked as if she were in a headspace that she didn’t know if she was supposed to either flee or stay, as if she would rather be any place else beside right in front of him. Her attention kept flicking to the sides, her shoulders tense. 

“The Restricted Section,” he clarified. “How did you get in?”

“Why would I not be allowed?”

Draco clenched his jaw because  _ of course _ she was going to be difficult. “Who gave you access?” 

Hermione tilted her head to the side. “I don’t see how that would be your business,” she pointed out. And, okay, she was right but still. 

“ _ Hermione-- _ ” he watched as her brows inched upwards, “-- Please. I’m asking you for a favor.” 

He watched her carefully, eyeing how she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced around them once more. The air was tense between them for several long minutes. So thick that it was nearly difficult to breath. Then, she sighed heavily and the noise was almost heaven to his ears because it meant that she was giving up the charade that he had despised the very moment he started Hogwarts. She eased her stance and finally met his gaze. 

“What do you need?” 

Draco mentally gave a heavy breath of relief. He hadn’t expected this approach to work but heck, it was something. It was just a heck of a miracle that Hermione actually chose to cooperate. He wasn’t going to brush this off as nothing since she clearly still felt some type of friendliness towards him that was enough to actually break that demeanor of hers. He was no bloody idiot to know that if there were others around, they would be having a completely different conversation. 

“I need to get access to the Restricted Section. Who gave it to you?” 

Hermione frowned. Draco kept watching as her gaze shot from side to side, like she was waiting for someone to come running up. She looked panicked and he knew that he needed to get as much out of her in as little time as possible. 

“I get access from my Godfather and… I can guarantee you that he would not be passing on the invitation to you anytime soon,” she spoke. There was an apology in her eyes so at least he could tell that she was somewhat sincere. 

Draco frowned back. “Who’s your Godfather? Are you sure I couldn’t convince him?” 

“Why do you need access so badly? What could you possibly be doing that you need to get it from there?” she tried instead, avoiding the question. 

“It’s for a side project.” 

She hummed, obviously not believing a single word he said. 

“Hermione,  _ please _ ,” he tried instead. 

Hermione sighed impatiently. “ _ Severus _ is my Godfather, Draco. You can’t get access from him so whatever you need, you have to tell me instead. It’s me or nothing.  _ Sorry  _ to disappoint,” she said with a slight sneer. 

And  _ there  _ she was. The girl who talked down on everyone so easily that Draco truly believed that she didn’t know any better. This was the girl that was the top of the food chain within the school  _ and  _ the rest of the Wizarding World. Draco didn’t think she even knew what she was doing half the time, she had no idea how she came off on people without really meaning to. Because who had the guts to tell her off? No one.

But then, her words registered and he felt the blood slowly leave his face. Severus. As in Severus Snape. The man who was trying to take what Fluffy was guarding.  _ Great _ . It seemed like no matter how hard he tried to look past the darker elements that surrounded Hermione and the rest of her family, there was something else that was making it almost impossible. . 

Draco forced himself to keep his cool, keeping his face unaffected. “Do you know if there is a book in there that contains information about a wizard named Nicholas Flamel?” 

“Flamel?” Hermione echoed. There was a look that passed across her face and she took a step back as if seeing him in a brand new light. She narrowed her eyes and continued on, “Why would you need information about Flamel?” 

“I told you already,” Draco answered her. “It’s for a side project.” 

Hermione scoffed as if she found something funny. “I heard you the first time, Draco. If I didn’t believe you then, what makes you think I would believe you now?” 

He couldn’t blame her for not understanding how important this was because how could she possibly know? No one in the whole bloody school knew apart from him, Harry, and Ron. He couldn’t hold this against her but she was making it so hard not to. Draco clenched down on his jaw. “If you aren’t going to help me, then excuse me, I have things to do,” he said and moved as if to take a step away from her, towards the rest of the library.

But just as he began to draw near the corner, that would separate him from Hermione, her voice filled the air.  “Flamel was the wizard that celebrated his 665th birthday last year,” she informed him. Draco looked over his shoulder and eyed her carefully. She had her book clutched tightly in front of her and there was a furrow in her brow as she looked back at him. 

He waited for her to elaborate or say something else,  _ anything  _ that would help him-- help them all. But she didn’t. She stayed standing there, watching him hesitantly as her teeth burrowed into her bottom lip. Her silence hung between them like a tarnish in the air. 

He  _ hated  _ it. 

Draco gave her a brisk nod. “Thanks,” he replied, blankly. He didn’t give her the chance to say anything else. Not like she planned on it anyways. 

So, Draco turned back around and walked away.

* * *

 

Going home for the holidays was almost a fresh breath of relief but it only made it coming back to school that much harder. But, unlike the other students, Draco was well armed with the knowledge of what he knew that was a very dangerous possibility for all of their futures. 

As soon as Draco had been reunited with Harry and Ron, they told him about their adventures throughout the castle, and more importantly, they showed him the invisibility cloak. When he first saw it, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He could hardly fathom why someone would give Harry such a rare item, especially since they didn’t know who had given it to him. 

However, once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for any information about Nicolas Flamel. And that’s what the Gryffindor trio was currently doing while sitting in front of the fireplace in the common room. 

After what seemed like eternity, Ron slammed his book down causing his two companions to jump at the noise. “I’m sick of reading! We must have gone through the entire library in this bloody school. My eyes cannot take this anymore.”

Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron to continue reading, but was interrupted when Neville toppled into the common room. Draco looked at him with eyebrows raised, wondering how he had managed to climb through the portrait hold since his legs had been stuck together with what he recognized as the Leg-Locker Curse. 

Everyone fell over laughing, except for Draco, who lept up and performed the countercurse. Neville’s legs sprang apart and he hastily stood up on trembling feet. 

“What happened?” Draco asked him, as he made his way to sit next to Harry and picked up his book to continue where he had left off. 

“Lestrange,” Neville said in a shakily voice. 

At hearing Cygnus’ last name, Draco was reminded of the altercation he had with his father at the beginning of the Christmas holiday. The morning after they had the heated discussion about Hermione’s family, Caius had apologized over breakfast. He had apparently caught his mistake, because he had told Draco that he had diverged himself into the history of the Wizarding World and the families that had children attending Hogwarts. Apparently, as his father said, it didn’t take much effort to turn money into galleons. And with the large amounts of wizard currency, his father basically had access to anything he wanted. Draco believed him of course, but he did question what exactly his father had read that would have such specific information. 

“I saw him outside the library, with the Grangers and the rest of their lot. He said he’s been looking for someone to practice that on.”

“Go to Professor McGonagall!” Ron urged Neville. 

“I don’t want more trouble,” Neville mumbled. Draco agreed with him. If Neville was to go running to McGonagall, things would get extremely bad for him. The entire house of Slytherin would attack the poor boy until he eventually dropped out or died. 

“You’ve got to stand up to them, Neville! Ron said. “People like him are used to walking all over people, but that’s no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier.” Draco rolled his eyes at Ron. He knew that if the Slytherin’s ever did something like that to Ron, Ron wouldn’t do a damn thing. Sure, he would explode at them, but his words were meaningless. 

“There’s no need to tell me that I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Lestrange and the Grangers have already done that,” Neville choked out.

Draco felt sorry for Neville, and watched as Harry pulled out a chocolate frog from his pocket and handed it to their quivering classmate; attempting to cheer him up. 

“You’re worth more than twelve of them,” Harry said. “You were placed in Gryffindor by the Sorting Hat, and look where they’re at-- in stinking Slytherin.” Neville’s lip twitched as he attempted to smile weakly, and unwrapped the sweet. 

“Thanks, Harry. I’m going to head off to bed now. Oh, and here, keep the card for your collection.”

The trio watched Neville head up the stairs and disappear from view. 

Harry sighed, “Dumbledore again,” and then turned the card over. Draco had opened his book to begin reading, but stopped abruptly again when he heard Harry gasp.

“I’ve found him!” he whispered. “I’ve found Flamel on Dumbledore’s card. It says that ‘he is known for his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel’.”

Draco jumped up to his feet and rushed to a large book that he had placed on the small table by the couch. He started flipping frantically through the pages after he looked up alchemy associated with Dumbledore. “Nicolas Flamel,” he said as he found the name, “is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!” He pushed the book towards Harry and Ron so that the two of them could read what he had found. He smiled smugly to himself, proud that they had finally discovered the mystery surrounding the mysterious  man. He couldn’t help but recall when he had asked Hermione, and it was clear now, that she knew exactly who Flamel was. She had told Draco everything that he needed to know, he just hadn’t pieced the clue together, and he had so quickly brushed her off. 

Draco felt guilt churn deep in his stomach when he remembered how apprehensively she had been looking at him. Was it possible that she knew what he did? Is that why she had looked so wary to tell him?  

“The dog must be guarding Flamel’s Sorcerer’s Stone,” Draco spoke as soon as Ron and Harry looked up after they finished reading. 

“A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying. No wonder Snape’s after it!” Harry snapped. 

Ron looked in awe, “If he has the stone, then he could be hundreds of years old!” 

Draco nodded, “Six hundred and sixty-five to be exact.” If the others noticed his solemn tone, they said nothing about it. 

The next day, the school was practically empty as all of the houses made their way out onto the Quidditch field. In less than an hour, the Gryffindor’s would be going against the Hufflepuff’s. Usually, the Gryffindor’s would have been extremely confident, but today, there was going to be a slight twist. Instead of Hooch, Severus Snape was going to be refereeing the game. 

Many of the Gryffindors, especially the Golden Trio, feared that Snape was going to favor the team opposing the red and gold one. Draco and Ron had urged Harry to take extreme precaution since they had seen that Snape was the one who had hexed Harry’s broom during the first match. It was safe to say that Harry was beyond nervous for this match, and he even feared for his life. Thankfully, his two best friends had comforted him by making sure they watched Snape with meticulous eyes.

After bidding Harry farewell, Ron and Draco had quickly found their place in the stands next to Neville. As the teams marched their way onto the field, the two noticed that Snape looked extremely angry.

“I’ve never seen Snape look so mean,” Ron said rather loudly to Draco. 

“It’s probably because he has to be on the same field as that scum you all worship,” came an icy reply from behind them. Draco paled and kept his head straight because he knew that it wasn’t the voice of Hermione or her bodyguards. That cold voice belonged to the other Granger, the one who he would never get the chance to befriend.

“Wonder how long Potter’s going to stay on his broom this time?” Cygnus inquired loudly. “Anyone want to bet? How about you, Weasel?” Ron turned sharply to face the group of Slytherin’s that decided to invade their personal space. He instantly regretted it, when he recognized that it was Tom, Cygnus, and Theo, as well as Hermione, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini. The whole bloody pack had slithered out of their hole to come watch the match. 

“I heard your running a bit low on funds,” Cygnus cackled. “You and your whole excuse of a family.” The Slytherins joined in the laughter and their shoulders bobbed as they all turned to watch the scene unfold. 

“You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?” Cygnus said loudly to the rest of them. “It’s people they feel sorry for.” 

Goyle leaned in, his face grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah! See, there’s Potter, who has no parents, and the Weasleys, who have no money.”

“Longbottom--you should be on the team, since you have no brains,” Cygnus maliciously said as he sneered at the quivering boy. “Or parents,” he added as a grimly after effect. 

Draco watched Neville tremble before her eyes. Lestrange apparently hit quite a sore spot within Longbottom. It infuriated him that Lestrange would have the audacity to say such things, how someone could be so damn cruel was beyond him. It’s not like Neville went around throwing it in Lestrange’s face that his mum wasn’t rotting in Azkaban, even if she weren’t exactly in the right state of mind, Neville could still physically see her whenever he wanted. 

“I’m worth twelve of you, Lestrange,” Neville stammered. 

The Slytherin group erupted into laughter once again. They could all see Neville uselessly nugging Ron for assistance, but their redhead friend kept his gaze on the game. Draco wanted to shout at him to back up his words that he had been so eager to spew earlier. Where was that Gryffindor bravery now, Ron? 

“Longbottom, if brains were gold you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something,” Hermione spoke finally. This whole time Draco had watched as she stared curiously at the argument around them all, nestled securely in the middle of the Slytherin gang. 

Hermione smirked towards Ron as his face went bright red with the newfound attention.  Ron sharply turned around to face her. He had barely moved when Tom stepped in front of Hermione and Cygnus had shifted to where his shoulder suddenly rammed into the redhead. Ron clumsily stumbled backward into Draco and Neville.

Ron angrily shouted, “Granger, if you say one more thing--”

“You’ll what?” Tom cut him off with a dangerous glare. Hermione raised a mocking eyebrow, with her head tilted to the side. She smirked at him, and judging by the way Ron’s red shade darkened, he was fighting his anger. Draco must have sensed it as well because he quickly turned to pull Ron from the small gang. “Ron, stop. They just want attention, and that’s exactly what you are giving them!” 

Hermione’s smirk dropped instantly. She looked at Draco with wide eyes, and he could visibly see the frantic panic that she stared at him with. He frowned and Hermione glanced at the rest of the Slytherins sideways, and sure enough, as he followed her gaze, they were boring daggers into Draco’s skull. 

_ Shite.  _

Draco had started to panic when Hermione’s brother stepped forward towards the Gryffindors. “No one asked for your opinion, you --” 

Suddenly, Hermione reached out and wrapped her hand around her brother’s arm. He had turned abruptly towards her with his silver eyes full of confusion. Hermione began to speak, but suddenly the crowd erupted in cheers and shouts. Everyone’s eyes snapped up towards the sky to watch Potter suddenly dive towards the ground like a bullet. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Cygnus dip his head back in frustration. They watched with heated glares as Potter pulled out of the dive, lifted his arm up in a triumph, and showed off the Snitch to the crowds. 

* * *

 

Although she would never admit it outloud, Hermione did have to give Potter some credit for actually being somewhat good at Quidditch. She might not have known too much about the sport, but she did know that being a successful first year seeker was not an easy task that was given to anyone. 

In order to escape the celebrating Gryffindors, Cygnus quickly stormed towards the nearest exit available. Hermione could tell that he was beyond angry. As he made his hasty exit, many of the surrounding Gryffindors became victims of his wrath. He roughly pushed several students out of the way, many tumbling to the ground with harsh thuds. 

Tom cursed underneath his breath as he watched Cygnus leave. He quickly grabbed onto Hermione so that the two could go after him, in hopes that he wouldn’t do something too heinous. Ever since they were young, Tom and Hermione were the only ones that were ever able to calm down their cousin. He had always been quite irrational, and never thought about his actions or what could result from them. It was no secret that Cygnus was nearly impossible to control. 

As Tom dragged Hermione behind him, the others were quick to follow. None of them had failed to not shoot deadly daggers at the Gryffindors that were standing in front of them. 

After leaving the Quidditch fields, the Slytherin group had quickly ventured down into the dungeons to escape the horrid celebrations of the Gryffindor scum. As soon as the portrait door of the common room slammed shut, Tom dismissed the rest of their group with a simple wave of the hand. Crabbe and Goyle obediently obeyed, but Theo took his sweet time leaving the room while shooting wishful glances towards the ones that remained. Blaise at first was reluctant to go, but disbanded after Hermione smiled at him, telling him that everything would be okay. Hermione remained close to her brother’s side as she watched Cygnus plop himself down on the black leather couch in an undignified manner, once everyone had left. 

Tom sighed loudly as he looked down upon Cygnus, who was still throwing his tantrum. “It would be wise not to cause a scene like that in the future. Surely, you don’t want detention with any of the Professors.” 

Cygnus kept his eyes trained on the high ceiling above him. “Do you think I give a damn--”

“I don’t bloody care if you don’t give a damn because I do!” Tom cut off his raging cousin. “We were given specific instructions to not get in any unnecessary trouble. And I would think that even you would be above going against Father.” Cygnus clenched his jaw shut as Tom condescended him. 

Hermione quietly made her way to sit next to Cygnus on the couch as Tom continued to talk sense into him.

Cygnus scoffed loudly, “I didn’t even do anything wrong! The last thing I did was throw that curse at Longbottom.”

Hermione gently placed her hand on his shoulder as she addressed him,“Cygnus you threw that Gryffindor off of the stands today when you stormed off after the game. Not that i’m sticking up for a Gryffindor, but when he fell, Tom had to perform the Confundus charm on him to make it look like he had accidentally tripped off of the stairs. Consider yourself lucky that no one saw since they were all focused on Potter _. _ ” 

Tom nodded in agreement with Hermione, “I know it’s hard Cygnus, but we must obey Father. Like he said, we either make sure that there are no witnesses or we use our unregistered wands. We have to be in position for when The Dark Lord returns.”

Cygnus stood to be eye level with Tom. “ _ He _ would want us to be torturing and killing every sodding person that stands against our ideals.  _ He _ would want us to have disposed of Potter and his moronic fanclub.” 

Tom rolled his eyes, “You know, just as well as I do, that it is The Dark Lord’s task to kill him. If we even attempted to cause problems for Potter, Dumbledore would know and do everything in his power to dispose of us from his precious Hogwarts. Everyone here knows that all of the professors favor Potter and the bloody Gryffindors. We have to be ready for when he returns, and you can’t exactly do that if you get expelled. When Father gives us permission, **then** we get to have fun. But until then, stay low.” 

Cygnus turned from Tom and started pacing in front of the couch where Hermione was sitting. His fingers were twitching to cause harm--aching to release his frustrations. Gods how he hated Dumbledore and his stupid little puppets!

Tom took two large strides and sat himself down next to his sister as they both prepared themselves to witness Cygnus blow a few things up. They weren’t at home so it wasn’t like Cygnus could summon one of their many house elves to torture. 

Cygnus rapidly drew out his wand and trained it on a nearby shelf. With a simple cantation, the objects bursted into tiny pieces, leaving nothing but a smoking trail. 

Tom narrowed his eyes at the form of Cygnus and sneered, “Don’t be sloppy. Even a Weasel could cast better than that--hell Longbottom could too.”

Hermione looked at Tom questionably through a quick side glance. What was he doing? She could see a dark glint in his eyes that meant he was doing it to get their cousin riled up even further.  

With a feral roar Cygnus pointed his wand at an even larger bookcase. A dark green light shot out of the tip of his wand, and struck the object. Instantly, it erupted with a loud explosion that caused the dungeon room to rumble as the immense wind waved over the occupants. Little embers remained floating in the air, but other than that, the bookshelf was nowhere to be seen. Cygnus had totally obliterated it.

“Not bad cousin,” Tom muttered. Hermione gave him a smile, but it was tight, and all she could think was that bookcase could have very easily been a student dressed in red and gold. 

* * *

Surprisingly the next few days had ran smoothly. Cygnus had been busy with Quidditch, Tom studied, and Hermione did the same--only she usually was occupied by either Tom or Blaise.

Hermione was somewhat shocked that Tom and Cygnus hadn’t confronted Potter. However, she was more than grateful that the two boys had seemingly forgotten about Draco speaking out of line. It seemed that the two were strictly sticking to Lucius’ words of wisdom to not cause any huge amounts of trouble. 

Currently she was upstairs in the library with Blaise, and it was late. Curfew would be arriving upon them at any moment, but the two could honestly care less. Instead of reading and studying like Hermione knew they should be doing, they were actually contemplating the great battle between Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

“It’s just...don’t you find it odd that Dumbledore came out the victor? Grindelwald had the Elder wand,  **the Elder wand** , and everyone knows how powerful it is. I just don’t understand how a wizard could have defeated him if he had the most powerful wand in existence. It just..logically doesn’t add up.” 

Blaise looked at Hermione with a contemplating look. It was somewhat conflicting the young wizard that his friend was right. Every magically being alive knew how legendary the Elder wand was and now that he thought about it, Dumbledore must be either extremely powerful or just unbelievably lucky. 

“Well...it is no secret that Dumbledore loved the wizard. Perhaps, maybe, Grindelwald didn’t want to hurt his lover.”

Hermione snorted, “You really think that Grindelwald’s love for Dumbledore was greater than his love of power? I never deemed you as a fool before Blaise, but if you really believe that, I might have to rethink this friendship.” 

Blaise humorously rolled his eyes at Hermione’s mirth, “Oh please, as if you could survive without me. So then explain to me what your theory is about the Duel of 1945.”

Hermione lowered her head as she put her attention towards the book that was laying open in front of her. Quietly she mumbled to him, but he hadn’t caught her words.

Recognizing her troubled expression, Blaise smiled brightly at her. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Hermione sighed loudly, “I said that I don’t have one.”

Blaise raised a questioning eyebrow, “You mean to tell me that the all knowing Hermione Granger has no idea? No thoughts? No nothing?”

Hermione laughed at her companion, “Yes. I honestly have no clue how Dumbledore would have defeated him. I guess it will just have to remain a mystery.”

“Well what if--” 

“What do we have here? Curfew is seconds away and if you two do not go to your dormitories, I will have no choice but to report you both to Professor Snape,” Madam Pince said as she interrupted Blaise’s train of thought. 

Hermione and Blaise rolled their eyes at the librarian, but wouldn’t dare risk being reported to Severus. The two quickly put their belongings away and scurried off towards the dungeons. 

They were about to round the last staircase when they abruptly stopped; a result of hearing nearby footsteps. The two Slytherins held their breaths and looked at each other with wide, worried eyes. However, they soon realized that it wasn’t just one pair of footsteps. Infact it was more than two. Feeling somewhat daring, Hermione slowly peered around the staircase, hoping to find the nearby individuals that were the source of the noise. She squinted as she tried to see beyond the darkness that crept along the walls, but she could see nothing, and more importantly, no one. Hermione turned her head towards Blaise and nodded her head towards the empty hall. Blaise stuck his head out to make sure that he couldn’t see anyone either, and shrugged to Hermione. The two were just about to walk down the empty corridor to the dungeon when the large, main doors of the castle opened. Hermione and Blaise stared at the sight in amazement. 

“What the f--” Blaise started to say but was quickly silenced as Hermione placed her hand over his mouth to silence him. She only released him once the doors had closed, signaling that their company was no longer lurking nearby. Quickly, Hermione grasped Blaise and pulled him towards the nearest window that overlooked the grounds. Hermione smirked to herself at the sight she saw. There in the darkness, was a light that shone brightly from a lantern. 

“I can’t see anyone. Only just the light,” Blaise whispered to Hermione as he gazed out of the window. 

“You may not see anyone, but that light means someone or some people, are out past curfew,” Hermione said as a ghost of a smile spread across her face. 

“It could just be a teacher,” Blaise pointed out.

Hermione nodded her head in disagreement, “What teacher needs to be invisible as they walk to Hagrid’s hut? I don’t know about you, but I know a blasted individual that likes to visit the half giant fool.”

“You mean Potter.”

“Of course I mean Potter. He’s the only idiot that visits the groundskeeper. Well..”  _ And his friends.  _ But Hermione hadn’t said the last part out loud. She hadn’t gotten to speak to Draco since before Christmas break, and she simply had tried to keep herself busy in order to not dwell on the fact. It wasn’t like she could just walk up to him and talk endlessly. He too, had seemed like he was always busy. He either had his nose buried deep in a book, or was always herded together with Weasley, Potter, and sometimes even Longbottom. Even though they didn’t talk, she knew that they still considered each other friends. 

Hermione moved towards the door and Blaise looked at her in shock. 

“We’re going to follow them? It’s past curfew Hermione.”

Hermione waved him off, “Oh it’ll be fine, no one is going to see us. Come on.” Hermione pulled on the handle and slipped outside.

Blaise sighed deeply to himself. He just had to be the best friend of Hermione Granger, the cunning, Slytherin Princess. Blaise rolled his eyes, then followed after Hermione once he made sure the large door shut quietly behind him.

* * *

 

If Hermione said the journey to Hagrid’s hut was easy, she would’ve be lying. It was incredibly difficult for her and Blaise to manage to make their way down the large, ragged hill without a light for guidance. Yes, they were aware of the fact that a simple Lumos could have eased themselves of their problem, but they didn’t want to risk the chance of being caught. 

“Ugh, it stinks out here,” Blaise said while he made a face of disgust as they had finally arrived at the groundskeeper’s hut. 

Hermione nodded in silent agreement, looking down to make sure she didn’t step in any questionable substances. “It’s absolutely horrid. And imagine actually having to live in that… _ thing _ . It’s absolutely barbaric. You would think that the old fool would have upgraded it by now.” 

The two quietly tip toed to a small window that light happened to be pouring out of. The two smirked to each other as they caught wind of voices seeping out as well. Hermione and Blaise pressed themselves against the wall of the hut so that they could hear the conversation that was taking place. 

“We think Snape’s trying to steal it. Draco and Ron saw him hexing my broom at the match! Everything points to him as the bad guy.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she thought about Potter’s words in concentration. Why were they talking about Severus? And especially about him trying to steal something. Blaise looked at Hermione in confusion, but stayed silent as Hagrid started to talk.

“Snape? Blimey, Harry, you’re not still on about him are you?”

“Hagrid, we know he’s after the Stone. We just don’t know why,” Potter spoke. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows in shock. A Stone? They couldn’t possibly be thinking that Severus wanted some bloody stone. He could probably make a dozen on his own. He didn’t need to steal  **anything** . What could they be bloody talking about? The only stone that had any importance was the-- 

“The Sorcerer's Stone,” Hermione whispered to herself. Draco had asked her about Flamel, and at the time apparently had no idea about the stone and it’s well wanted desires. Is that what the Gryffindor trio had been up to all this time? She had not been oblivious to the fact that they always had their noses in ever changing books. It was no surprise to see Draco reading, but the other two were a completely different story.  

She could hear a loud creak within the hut, that could only mean that the half-giant had stood and started to walk around. “Snape is one of the teachers protecting the Stone! He’s not about to steal it, Harry.” 

“What?” Hermione rolled her eyes at the ignorance of Potter. Gods how she wanted to do nothing but burst through the door and hex him where he sat. He deserved to be punished for being so judgemental towards her Godfather, and to accuse him of stealing, was completely uncalled for. 

“You heard right. Come on now, I’m a bit preoccupied today,” Hagrid’s voice rumbled out. 

“Uh, Hagrid, what exactly is that?” Hermione recognized that voice immediately. It belonged to her friend-- the boy who should’ve been sorted into Slytherin and talking to her instead of being surrounded by blubbering idiots. 

“Bloody hell Hagrid! How did you get a dragon egg?” 

Instantly, Hermione and Blaise turned to each other with their mouths open in obvious shock. A dragon was  **definitely** not allowed on the grounds of Hogwarts. Then, as if on que, the pair could hear a loud rattling sound being emitted from within the hut. 

Hermione definitely didn’t want to miss out on whatever was happening, so she pulled herself up in order to be able to look through the pulled curtains. It didn’t take more than a second before Blaise followed up after her. The two watched as the large egg near the fire, cracked loudly. Everyone in the hut, and the two outside, gasped as a tiny dragon emerged from within. 

“That’s not just a dragon, Hermione. That’s a Norwegian Ridgeback,” Blaise whispered. 

Hermione turned to look at Blaise, but quickly froze when Hagrid spoke.

”Who’s that in the window?”

Hermione and Blaise immediately ducked down out of sight, but they both knew that it was too late. They had been seen by the half giant, and perhaps the other occupants in the hut.

* * *

“Granger.”

Draco turned to look at Harry as he identified who had been looking through the window. “Are you sure?” Draco had no doubt that it was Hermione--he had even saw her for himself--but he didn’t want to rat her out completely. 

“Yes, it was Granger. Who else would have followed us out here?”

Hagrid immediately became distressed at the mention of Hermione’s name. “Oh dear. How long had she been there? Did she see Norbert?”  

Ron’s shoulders slumped, “I think she did Hagrid.”

“You don’t think she’d tell, do you? Blimey, I’ve only jus’ gotten him.” Hagrid looked down at the newly hatched dragon that was squirming in his large hands. 

Harry nodded his head, “Hagrid, I have no doubt that she would.”

Ron snorted, “Consider yourself lucky that she didn’t barge in here and Avada him before our very eyes.”

Draco snapped and narrowed his eyes in agitation, “You can’t say that Ron!”

Ron looked at Draco as if he grew a second head. “What, you know it’s true!” 

A somewhat awkward silence sat on the shoulders of everyone in the hut since Ron and Draco were glaring at each other--daring one another to say something that the other would take offense to. Harry looked between the two with hesitant glances, not wanting to get involved in their dispute.

“Ron, Draco’s right,” Hagrid said as he stepped towards the two. “It’s very wrong to go ‘round sayin students at Hogwarts be messin’ with that stuff. Even if you don’t like the person.”

Draco was relieved that Ron somewhat looked ashamed of himself, even though it was to the slightest degree. 

“We need to head back to the castle,” Harry spoke as he remembered how late it was.

“Alright, ya go. And do try not to get caught on yer way back in.”

The trio nodded at Hagrid, then left the hut after saying goodbye.

* * *

 

Hermione and Blaise ran all the way back to the castle after being seen at Hagrid’s. When they entered, Hermione had turned to go towards the dungeons, but was stopped by Blaise pulling on her arm. 

“What are you doing?,” he hissed at her. “We need to report this! Hagrid can’t keep a bloody dragon on the school grounds. Besides, we can get the Gryffindor Trio in trouble too. Tom and Cygnus are always talking about plans, and an opportunity has been given to us!” 

Hermione was shocked to see that Blaise was so adamant on reporting what they had just seen. Hermione had honestly not even thought about telling anyone, but apparently Blaise did. 

Hermione walked back to Blaise quietly. “And who are we going to tell? Everyone in this school favors Potter.”

“Ahem,” came a well known voice behind them. The pair stiffened instantly, then slowly, ever so slowly, turned to face Professor McGonagall as she peered down at them from behind her glasses. “Perhaps you should tell me.” Hermione spoke before Blaise could even mutter a word.

* * *

 

When the main doors of Hogwarts opened again, this time the three Gryffindors walked in to find themselves facing McGonagall with Granger and Zabini looking rather smug from behind her. 

“Good evening, how nice of you to finally join us. I’ve been waiting for you three since I stumbled upon Miss Granger and Mister Zabini. Care to explain yourselves?”

Draco noticed that Harry looked completely perplexed, but his main focus was Hermione. She was looking at Harry, but occasionally would flicker her gaze towards him. When her eyes would sit on him, he was absolutely positive that there was a slight smile on her lips, but it only lasted for a second before she returned her gaze to Harry. Draco did find it odd that Blaise kept quiet, and looked agitated as McGonagall spoke. 

“Nothing, I repeat, nothing gives a student the right to walk around the school at night.” Draco saw Blaise glance at Hermione, then the two shared a look that obviously said the two were communicating quietly. Draco felt that sharp pang of jealousy in his stomach again. It never failed to occur when he would see the two interact with each other. 

“Therefore, as punishment for your actions, 50 points will be take.”

“50?!” Harry nearly screamed.

McGonagall looked at him with an unimpressed look, “Each. And to ensure it doesn’t happen again, all five of you will receive detention.”

Hermione snapped her attention to McGonagall, “Excuse me, Professor. Perhaps I heard you wrong. I thought you said…the five of us.”

McGonagall turned to look at the two Slytherins behind her. “No, you heard me correctly, Miss Granger. You see, you too were out of bed after hours. You, as well as Mister Zabini, will serve detention with your classmates.”

This time it was the lions to smirk at the snakes.

* * *

 

“I have detention. Tonight. At 11 o’clock.” Hermione said to the two that were sitting across the table from her as they all enjoyed their breakfast. 

Tom and Cygnus instantly put down their forks then focused their attention on her. The two older boys were emotionless for a second, then bursted out into laughter.

“That’s a good one. And you masked your emotions exceptionally well,” Cygnus said as he wiped his eyes. 

“It’s not a joke, Cygnus. McGonagall gave Blaise and I detention tonight for being out past curfew last night.” Hermione looked towards Tom, pleading for him to realise that she was absolutely serious. Tom narrowed his eyes, and gripped Cygnus on the arm, silencing him at once. Cygnus then looked at Hermione with an incredulous look, “The old bat really gave you detention?” Hermione solemnly nodded. 

“So I take it, you and Potter will have it together, since you all were caught,” Tom said. 

Hermione sighed, “Yes. It’ll be Blaise, myself, then the three Gryffindors.”

Cygnus turned towards Tom, “It’ll probably be with Filch..”

“But  why does she have to report at 11 o’clock at night? That’s too late for any regular detention..” Tom trailed off as he stared at Hermione. “If that man makes you do anything that would not classify as normal detention, I want you to leave immediately and come to us. If we have to, we’ll get Father involved.”

Hermione frowned and started to pick at her eggs, “I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

Tom scoffed then reached across the table to still her hand. He looked at her with a firm gaze that didn’t waver.  “I don’t care. There’s no room for argument.” 

Cygnus nodded then turned his attention towards the Professor’s table, no doubt throwing daggers at McGonagall. “Should one of us get detention as well?,” Cygnus asked the pair.

Hermione briskly shook her head back and forth, “That’s hardly necessary. I’m a big girl remember?” Tom and Cygnus smiled at her. “And I’ll have Blaise. Besides, it can’t be that bad, right?”

* * *

 

Wrong. At eleven o’clock that night, Hermione had made her way up to the entrance hall with Blaise. Filch was already there, but it took a few minutes for the Gryffindors to join them. 

“Follow me,” said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. Hermione internally started to panic when Filch opened the doors. She had definitely not thought that they would be going outside at such a late hour. 

“I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” he said, leering at them. They marched off across the dark grounds. Hermione wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible since Filch was sounding so delighted. She contemplated if she should turn around and sprint back to the castle. 

As they continued to walk, Hermione noticed that they were heading in the direction of Hagrid’s hut. Hermione and Blaise had stayed behind Filch, while Potter, Draco, and Weasley walked behind them. “You’ll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight. He’s got a little job to do inside the dark forest. I’d be mistaken if I said that you’ll all come out in one piece.”

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, causing Draco to quickly have to step around her. “The forest?” She knew she didn’t sound as emotionless as she would have liked, but it was too great of a task to try and hide her fear. “We can’t go in there at night---there’s all sorts of things in there! And besides, students aren’t allowed.”

Filch smiled wickedly at her, “We’ll tonight, consider yourself lucky.”

Hagrid then came striding toward them out of the dark with Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. 

“Abou’ time,” he said. “I been waitin’ for half an hour already. Let’s go.”

“I’ll be back at dawn,” Filch said, “for what’s left of them.” Hermione glared at him as he left.

“ I’m not going in that forest,” she said as she turned her head towards Hagrid, with her nose held defiantly in the air. She wasn’t oblivious to the pleased looks on Potter and Weasley’s face. Blaise was standing by her side, and Draco was an arm’s length away. 

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said fiercely. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do.”

Blaise nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, I thought we’d be copying lines or something.”

“If my father knew I was doing this, he’d--” Hagrid cut her off, “He’d tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts. If yeh think yer father would rather you were expelled, then get back off to the castle an’ pack.” 

Hermione didn’t move. She and Blaise looked at Hagrid furiously, and didn’t drop their gaze. 

“Right then,” Hagrid said then started walking towards the Forbidden Forest with the five students in tow.

* * *

 

It had been a while until Hagrid stopped and bent down to dip his fingers into a silver puddle. 

“Hagrid, what is that?” Harry asked.

“What we’re here for. That’s unicorn blood. I found one dead a few weeks ago. Now, this one’s been injured or... something. 

Draco looked at Hagrid, “So it’s our job to find the injured unicorn?”

Hagrid nodded, “Yeah, we’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have to put it out of its misery.”

From beside him, Hermione sighed loudly. “And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” she asked. 

“There’s nothing’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” Hagrid said. Draco saw Hermione roll her eyes. “Right now, we’re gonna split into two groups.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hermione muttered.

Hagrid looked at the group before him with contemplation, “All right, Harry you’ll be in my group. Blaise….you’ll come with me as well. Draco, you and Hermione. And then Ron will be with you two as well.” Hermione looked at Ron with utter disgust, and Hagrid immediately changed his mind. “Actually, Ron, you’ll come with me.” 

“Don’t you think I should go with Hermione, Hagrid?” Blaise asked. 

“Nope. Can’t have two Slytherins with one Gryffindor.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “But it’s fair that one Slytherin goes with two Gryffindors… and a half-giant. A bit biased, don’t you think?”

Hagrid glared at her, but Draco knew that she was right. “I want Fang, since it’s just us two.”

“All right, but I’ll warn yeh, he’s a coward.” 

Hermione raised a questionable brow, “Is that so? I’m sure he’s much better than those two you’re stuck with.” Blaise smirked at her. 

Hagrid ignored her jab towards the two Gryffindors next to him, “You two head that way, and we’ll go the other way. If anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks. Be careful--let’s go.”


End file.
